More Than It Seems
by Minch
Summary: Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?
1. Negotiations

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

_**More than it seems, these dreams inside blur reality's line**_

_**If I could believe the dreams aside, I am capable of more than it seems**_

__**Kutless**

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**Chapter One: Negotiations**

"We'll make camp here," the blond man said as he and his company dismounted. The group was comprised of six men; the oldest looked to be in his early thirties, the youngest in his mid-twenties. All but the youngest wore chainmail and carried well looked-after swords. As they took off their horses' saddles for the night, the fair-haired man ordered, "Gwaine and Percival will take the first watch, Merlin and I will take the second, and Leon and Elyan the third."

"No chance to negotiate?" Gwaine asked, wearing his typical carefree and roguish smile.

"Don't start," Arthur told him in a voice that promised deep trouble if the knight continued ribbing. Gwaine took the hint. He pulled some fishing line and hooks from a saddle bag and went off to the nearby stream. "Merlin, go collect firewood. Make sure it's dry."

Merlin picked up an axe without a word. Ordinarily he would have taken a parting shot at Arthur, but he was not in the mood. He jogged back down the road they had taken through the thick trees, remembering a fallen tree that looked extremely dry. Dry wood meant less smoke, which meant that there was less chance of someone detecting them because of the smoke. He let his mind wander a little as he went.

Lot –formerly one of the nobles in Essetir and now its king– had invited Arthur to his castle of Huntaburgh to establish a treaty between his kingdom and Camelot. It was no secret that he disliked the Pendragons, to say the least. Arthur, on the other hand, had no quarrel with him. Despite the one-sided hostility, Lot pressed the issue, saying that he wanted a definite agreement between them. The treaty made between Cenred and Uther was thrown out when Cenred attacked the city of Camelot, and it had not been replaced.

Merlin was not sure what to think of this. It was possible that Lot had given up his ill will toward Camelot. Perhaps he hoped that an accord with Camelot would help stabilise his rule. Even after two years, some of the other nobles in Essetir continued to challenge his claim to the throne. In any case, there was one thing that Lot and Arthur agreed on: banning sorcery. Cenred was allied with Morgause, he remembered ruefully. Lot did not persecute users of magic with the same hatred as Uther, but he was no friend of the Old Religion.

He arrived at the fallen tree, near where Gwaine fished for supper. He waved to Merlin, humming the tune of a rude song. Merlin returned the wave before kneeling to examine the tree. He noted that not only was it dry, it was hawthorn. Dry hawthorn burned for a long time, and gave off almost no smoke at all. Once he had an armful of stout branches, he turned back to the camp. Suddenly he stopped and listened. There was no sound in the forest, aside from the nearby stream and Gwaine. No birds were chirping, no small creatures scurrying about. Usually silence in the woods meant bandits were about. _But_, he reminded himself, _there's five burly knights tromping around._ Naturally all the animals would be laying low.

He started again when something flickered in the corner of his eye. When he looked, all was still. But he could not shake the feeling that they were being watched. He shivered involuntarily. It was bad enough that the trees in this forest were so thick that the road they were following was little more than a footpath. He did not need the extra suspicion that something else was out there, watching them. Dusk was coming on fast, but perhaps…

He knew no spell for what he wanted to do, but that never stopped him before. He imagined being able to see in the dark, being able to see with the sharp eyes of a cat. Merlin's blue eyes glowed with golden fire and he could instantly see through the twilight as if it were midday.

He looked all around, across the stream, up in the trees. What he could see was nothing out of the ordinary. Gwaine did not notice, suddenly occupied with the massive fish that had bitten his line. He listened as well, using his magic to extend his hearing range. Arthur and the other three knights were quiet, rubbing the horses down and setting up camp.

_It must have been a leaf falling_, he decided. He made sure to douse his magical vision and hearing before turning back to the campsite with the firewood in tow. The sunlight was fading in earnest now.

"Found some dry hawthorn," he said as he came back into the camp. No one answered, preoccupied by thoughts of Lot's invitation. He hunkered down and dug a deep fire pit, one that would easily hide the flames. The feeling of being watched was not so strong here, among his friends.

A splash and a slew of swearing came from the river. Gwaine appeared a few moments later, dripping wet. A fat fish flopped around on the end of his line. "I saved supper," he explained when they looked at him.

"By jumping in after him?" Merlin quipped as he struck flint on steel and started the fire. That provoked a laugh from the knights, breaking some of the tension.

The men of Camelot got to work getting ready for the night. Within minutes Merlin skinned and gutted the fish, putting the meat in a pot of water with a mixture of add-ins. He set it next to the fire to cook, which he kept burning low. No need to attract unwanted attention, even with all of their precautions.

"So what's the plan?" he asked no one in particular.

"We go, we make a treaty, we leave; no much more to it," Leon replied.

"Why now?" Elyan wondered aloud. "It's been over two years since you were crowned King, sire."

"Alinor, Annis, Rodor –they all settled their treaties within six months." Gwaine ticked off the monarchs of neighbouring kingdoms. "Perhaps we slipped his mind."

Merlin glanced at the king, who had not said anything. "You worried?"

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin," Arthur said, but only half-heartedly.

"Yeah, don't worry. You've got us to protect you," Gwaine added.

The evening passed in near-silence. The knights talked, but quietly. The fish was good and filling, with enough left that even Merlin got a bowl to eat. When they were done, he stood to go rinse out the pot. "Leave it till morning, Merlin," Arthur said.

"Do you know how hard it is to clean this pot after it sits dirty for hours?" the manservant asked him.

"No." The king said it like he was not sure if Merlin was in his right mind.

"Well, it is."

"Then you'll scrub it in the morning." Arthur refused to back down on this.

"I'll go with h–" Gwaine started to say when all of them heard something heavy drop to the ground behind a nearby tree. Arthur stood up quickly, his sword in hand. Merlin, however, beat him to it. Almost silently, he stole around the tree. No one stood concealed behind it, but a dark shape sat on the ground near the trunk. He picked it up and moved back into the firelight to examine the mysterious object.

A cloth bag rested in his hands. Crafted out of leather, an internal wooden frame held the bag in a square shape. Inside lay a small pile of feathers –goose, grouse, pheasant, goldfinch, even a few hawk feathers. Each was carefully laid so that none would crush the others. He found a fist-sized bottle in an inside pocket, a bottle he discovered to be filled with a pungent glue when he uncorked it.

"What the hell is this?" Merlin wondered aloud. If anyone possessed an answer, they had no time to give it. An arrow sprouted out of the ground next him.

"I'll thank yeh to put my bag back, pack up, and find somewhere else t' sleep." The voice that spoke was young and heavily accented with a peasant's burr.

"Who are you?" Arthur called as the knights drew their swords and leapt into a circle, backs to one another, peering out into the night.

"Don' matter," the stranger said gruffly. Somehow, his voice seemed to come from the trees above them. Merlin mentally kicked himself. He should have looked more closely. With the trees being so close, the stranger could have climbed up any tree and snuck over to right above where their camp was.

"I wouldn't advise an attack," Leon called. "We're armed."

"And I've another arrow nocked and pointed at yer gullet." the stranger answered.

"Will you fire?" Elyan challenged the unseen speaker.

"I'd just as soon not. 'T would be a waste of a good fletchin'." The stranger muttered something under his breath and the fire went out. Not slowly, leaving a bed of embers and coals, but as if someone had blown it out like a candle.

Merlin's nerves were already jangling, but the introduction of a sorcerer –quite possibly an enemy sorcerer– made him that much more alert.

"Sorcerer," Arthur called. "I command that you surrender, in the name of the law of Camelot."

"I'll not, thanks. I don' care if yeh're the King of Camelot hisself."

"And if I were to tell you that I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot…" Arthur was playing a dangerous gamble, revealing his identity to a concealed sorcerer.

"Forgive me for not trustin' yer word," the sorcerer said sarcastically.

"You insult the king?!" Gwaine yelled in fury. He spun around in the darkness, looking for the offender.

"Mayhap yeh are the king, mayhap not. I done worse things than tread on the toes of nobility to keep my skin in one piece."

Merlin was working out a plan of how to get out of this mess when a much deeper darkness, like a heavy curtain, fell on him and he knew no more.

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**Check back in three days around 14:00 UTC for the next chapter**


	2. Introductions

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

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**Chapter Two: Introductions**

The first thing that Merlin was aware of was that it stank. An awful stench of mold and mildew suffused the air to the point that he could hardly breathe.

He opened his eyes. He lay on a floor covered with rushes. Not freshly mowed hay, but hay that had been lying on the floor for who-knew-how-long and tromped on by wet, muddy boots. He looked around at the dungeon, for dungeon it was. A chain ran from the shackles on his legs to a ring set in the wall. His vision cleared slowly and he could see more of the small room.

Thick stone walls surrounded him on all sides. The only breaks in it were a small window near the ceiling and a heavy wooden door with its own small window. Daylight streamed in from the window, though the metal bars set in the frame considerably diminished the light.

A slight rustle made him look in the corner opposite him. In the corner lay what looked like a bundle of dirty rags. It must have been a person. A chain ran from the wall to the rags, a chain like the one attached to Merlin.

His attention was diverted from this person by a low moan. It seemed to come from the wall next to him. He examined the wall and found a small gap, little more than a crack, in the wall. "Hullo?" he whispered through it. "Who's that?"

"Merlin?" He sighed in relief: it was Arthur. "Where are we? What happened?"

"Can't answer either of those questions right now."

"That sorcerer in the forest. Did he do this?"

"Could have," Merlin replied. "Where are the others?"

"Gwaine and Leon are here with me," Arthur paused a moment. "Leon can hear Elyan and Percival in the next cell."

That was when two things occurred to Merlin. One, he wore only a roughly spun shirt and poorly-made trousers. His own shirt, jacket, trousers, boots, and neckerchief were missing. And two, his cellmate could not be any of the knights. "There's someone else in my cell," he whispered to Arthur. "Let me see if he's awake." As he shifted over the other side of the dungeon, he could make out the face of the stranger.

He was young, more a boy than a man. His hair, dark brown in colour, was cut just above his ears. His nose had been broken and healed crookedly. His clothes were like Merlin's, a coarse shirt and breeches only. With a sharp intake of breath, the boy's eyes opened and focused on the manservant. His eyes were the brightest shade of green Merlin had ever seen in a person.

"Who are y–" the boy started to shout before a black band that had been lying next to him flew up and tied itself around his mouth. The boy scrabbled at it, but could not dislodge it. An identical band flew around Merlin's head and gagged him. It covered his mouth and nose, leaving him unable to breath. Muffled shouts from the next cell told him that the others were in the same predicament.

"Now, now, now," a silky voice chided. "There's no need to shout."

Both Merlin and the boy looked toward the door, forgetting about the gags. The voice that came from outside the door was refined and composed, captivating their attention. All the same, the calmness sent a shiver down Merlin's spine.

"Now that I have your attention, I suppose we should start introductions. I am Renault, lord of these lands. You are trespassers and by law, all you possess is now my property. I have already taken your horses, swords, clothes, and other belongings." There was a smile in his words, and it was not a pleasant smile at all. "They will be put to far better use than whatever you required of them before, I can assure you. Any questions?"

No one was able to answer, but Renault was silent for a few moments anyway.

"Furthermore, you all have a few more things that belongs to me. I will be seeing you, one at a time, to investigate." The gag fell away from Merlin's mouth. He inhaled, grateful for the air that had been denied to him. The boy next to him gasped as well.

"King Lot will come looking for us," he heard Arthur rasp through the crack in the wall.

He heard the door to Arthur's, Leon's, and Gwaine's cell open sullenly. "Oh, will he? Marcus, come here," Renault called to someone outside the door. "Recognise him?" No one answered, so Renault continued. "_I_ sent him, not that idiot Lot! Lot doesn't even know that you were travelling Huntaburgh. And no one in Camelot knows you didn't make it, either. They will send messengers asking for you, Lot will honestly say that he doesn't know where you are, tensions will run high, la-di-dah-di-dah. By that time, it won't matter if Camelot and Essetir go to war with one another. They will have much bigger problems to deal with.

"Marcus, you may go now," Renault ordered. "On second thought, your services are no longer required."

Merlin heard a sound like a rope unwinding, followed by the sounds of someone being strangled. The choking was cut off by a sickening crack.

"My assistant, Rowena, will come to collect you shortly," Renault said indifferently. The door creaked shut, and Merlin heard his footsteps padding away. He was dragging something heavy.

No one in Arthur's cell spoke. Fearing the worst, Merlin softly called, "Arthur? What happened?" Part of him did not really want to know.

"It was the messenger who came to Camelot," Arthur said tightly. "That–that _monster_ summoned a rope out of thin air and strangled him. His neck broke."

The boy next to Merlin had been quiet after he caught his breath. Now, as he put a hand on the wall to pull himself up, he hissed in pain and dropped back down to the floor, cradling his right arm.

"Here, let me." Merlin gently placed a hand on the boy's arm. He bit his lip, and jerked away when Merlin found the break. "I know it hurts, but I need to set it for it to heal properly."

"Merlin?" Arthur called.

"There's a boy in here with me. His arm is broken."

"And I'll thank yeh to leave me be!" He pulled away from Merlin's touch and staggered to his feet. He was lanky like the manservant, but shorter. Merlin guessed him to be 18 or so.

"What's going on?" If the circumstances were different, Merlin would have heard the worry in Arthur's voice. For now, his main concern was that he recognised the boy's voice.

"It's the sorcerer from the forest," he told Arthur.

"The one who attacked us?!"

"I asked yeh to put my bag back, and I put out the fire," the boy shot back. "I'd hardly call that an attack."

"You used magic," Arthur contended. "In Camelot–"

"Which is nowhere near here, and yeh're in no position to execute me, seein' as yeh're in one dungeon and I'm in the other. Whether yeh be the King o' Camelot or not," the boy said, recalling their earlier confrontation, "we're in the same boat. I'm a prisoner, yeh're a prisoner, and this Renault isn't going to let us out any time soon. If anything, I'm more likely to die here than in Camelot. Not that I want to die," he added, almost as an afterthought.

That shut Arthur up for the moment. Merlin got to his feet. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you," he told the boy. "I'm a physician. I can help with your arm."

"Yeh're with him. The King o' Camelot."

"Yes," Merlin acknowledged.

"And yeh know I did the magic out there." The boy spoke to him as if to a young child.

"Yes."

"And yeh _still_ want t' help."

"As best as I can," Merlin said patiently.

"Alright." The boy sat back down carefully and extended his arm. "But try anythin' funny and I'll singe yer eyebrows."

Tentatively Merlin knelt and began to treat him. "This will hurt," he warned him, not wanting to startle the boy into making good on his threat.

"I'm tough." And he was. He squirmed a little and winced, but did not yell as Merlin set the broken bone so that it would heal straight. Merlin, having no other choice, tore two strips of cloth from the hem of his shirt. He bound the boy's arm to his chest so that it would not move and disturb the broken bone.

"Now, would you tell me what your name is?" Merlin asked as he tied a final knot.

"Alder," the boy answered shortly. "And yours?"

"Merlin."

"Well, good t' meet you, Merlin." Alder tried to shake hands with his right hand, thought better of it, and shook with his left.

Introductions did not progress past that. The door of the next-door cell creaked open. A woman's voice commanded, "_Unclyse_." A chain rattled and fell to the floor. "_Standan in fot_," she incanted. The chain dragged across the floor.

"What are you doing?!" Gwaine shouted.

"Following Lord Renault's orders," she answered as the door closed. Her footsteps and the rattle of the dragging chain faded down the corridor.

Merlin crawled over to the wall and called, "What happened?"

"She took Arthur."

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**I really should update when I say I'm going to. Anyway, check back the day after tomorrow at 15:00 UTC for Chapter Three.**


	3. Quesions

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

**Replies to anonymous reviews:**

Simply me- Glad you liked the last chapter!

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**Chapter Three: Questions**

It may have been five minutes or five hours since Arthur was taken. In his panic and worry, Merlin's mind no longer registered the passage of time. He decided that enough time had passed that he would go and find Arthur. Alder's presence in the cell with him was forgotten completely.

He concentrated on the shackles binding him to the wall. In his mind, he saw the image of an open chain. He felt his magic flare inside like a candle being lit.

There was a bright flash as pain struck his skull like a blacksmith's hammer striking a sword, followed by darkness.

A hand lightly slapping his face brought him back. "Come on now," Alder murmured to him. "Yeh had enough sleep already." He returned to his side of the cell in an awkward three-limbed crawl, hampered by the broken arm bound to his chest. The hammer returned to beating out a steady rhythm of pain on Merlin's head. He pressed his hands to his temples and moaned quietly, not trusting himself to speak.

When he felt that he could think coherently, he looked over at Alder. The boy leaned against the wall, not looking in his direction at all. He had not noticed that Merlin had tried to use magic. Merlin looked down at the chain again. This time, he did not incant a spell. Instead he examined it with his magic.

Like all objects, the chain was material. It was solid, and he could feel the shackles press against his ankles. Something in it prickled Merlin's magic sense. He looked closer. There was the problem–a chain within the physical chain. This invisible chain bound one's magic while the solid chain bound one's body. It did not just keep him from breaking the solid one; it kept him from using any kind of magic. That was a problem. Without his magic, he knew that he was all but useless.

Even if a bad headache was his only reward, he would have to attempt breaking the chain open again. He was about to try when he heard footsteps outside, and the creak of the door of the next cell opening. "_Fordyttan_," the same woman –Rowena, probably– said.

"Arthur? Arthur!" Gwaine shouted. "Ar–" He was cut off. There were muffled yells and the sound of chains thrashing about.

"If the two of you keep that up, you will suffocate yourselves." Rowena's voice was straightforward and severe. Apparently, neither Leon nor Gwaine stopped flailing. "Alright. It's no hair off my head if you're unconscious when Lord Renault does his investigation." She ordered, in the language of the Old Religion, for someone to stand up. The door closed behind her and the sound of the lashing chains faded.

"Arthur?" Merlin quietly called through the crack in the wall. "Arthur, can you hear me?"

"Merlin." Arthur sounded exhausted. His voice was hoarse, as if he had been screaming. "Merlin, where are you?"

Merlin's heart leapt into his throat. "In the cell next to yours," he quickly supplied. "What happened?"

"She took Gwaine and Leon." Arthur said at length.

"I–" Merlin paused, unsure of how to ask. "I meant with Renault."

"He– It was–" In the more than seven years Merlin had known Arthur, he had never heard him stammer and hesitate like this. "He cut my hands," Arthur started again. "First my right hand. He explained that each hand holds certain things or something like that. But when he cut me, it was like–like he _knew_."

"Knew what?"

"I saw Camelot, Gwen, the knights, my father. I saw myself fighting Annis's champion and sparing him. I saw Gwaine and me riding in the woods and you coming up out of the bog, covered in mud. But, whatever I saw, somehow _he_ saw it all, too. When he cut my left hand, I–" Arthur paused, as if to steel himself. "One thing I saw then was Arianna."

"Who's Arianna?" Merlin asked.

"She was a kitchen maid. She worked in Camelot years ago. We were boys, Leon and I," Arthur remembered. His voice sounded hollow. "She was taking a tray up to a visiting lord. We bullied her into giving us the tarts and made her swear not to tell. Whoever the guest was, he was furious with her."

"What happened to her?" Merlin asked, although he was not sure he wanted to know.

For a moment, Arthur did not speak. "He had her flogged and dismissed from the castle's service," he almost whispered.

"Did she ever tell?"

"No." His voice was filled with shame. "I never saw her again, and we never told anyone what we had done."

"What else did you see?" Merlin asked gently.

"Merlin, I'm tired. Please, just let me sleep."

The pleading note in Arthur's voice scared Merlin. "Alright," he said.

Merlin sat back against the wall, trying to keep his own fright from showing. He had never heard of the magic Renault was using, to show someone past events. But it was powerful magic nonetheless.

It would not do to think about it now, so he turned his mind to other problems. Namely, the chain. Gently this time, he dipped into his reserves of magic. In his mind's eye, he willed a thin sheet of power to flow out and envelop the shackles. The force of the invisible chains pressed against his magic, but he refused to stop.

Little by little, he released his hold on the magic. The pressure of the magical restraint started to build, pressing on his mind. Nevertheless, he would not let up. He could not fail Arthur and Camelot. He had to get them out of this place.

The blacksmith's hammer suddenly struck down again, but he managed to hang on to consciousness this time. He closed his eyes and rubbed his head, bearing the pain as best he could.

When he opened his eyes, he found Alder was staring at him with ill-concealed curiosity, curiosity that Merlin felt about him in return. "What?"

"Yeh're with the King o' Camelot."

"Yes, I believe we established that." He did not like where Alder was taking this.

"And yeh got _magic_." he whispered that last word as if it were forbidden.

"Yes."

"Yet yeh be in his service."

"Yes."

"_Why?_"

"Because things will be different one day. One day, we won't have to hide anymore."

Alder snorted rudely. "And we'll both live t' see that day, I'm sure," he said sarcastically.

"If you don't mind my asking, what exactly were you doing when we, ah, ran into each other?" Two could play this game. Merlin had answered some tricky questions, so it was only fair that he could ask some of Alder.

The boy looked at the manservant with a scrutinising scowl before answering. "Fletchin'."

Merlin frowned in return. Gathering feathers to glue to arrows was a plausible reason to be up in a tree in the middle of the forest, but that did not explain everything.

Alder seemed to read his mind. "My kin are bowyers."

"Where?" Bowyers were usually in the service of a noble, someone who had the money to finance the costly and time-consuming process of making bows.

"Just a small-time lord in Essetir," Alder said. He refused to meet Merlin's eyes.

It was a lie, he knew, but he decided not to press the issue. He had enough to think about without teasing a straight answer from the boy.

For one, obviously, what was Renault doing? The 'investigation' the woman had spoken of when she took Gwaine and Leon was what he had done to Arthur, Merlin was sure of that much. It had something to do with the left and right hands. In the Old Religion, the right hand was the hand of good, order, truth. The left hand, conversely, was the hand of evil, disorder, secrets. Did this ceremony have anything to do with that? Even if it did, Merlin did not understand it. Even if he was Emrys, he did not know all of the ways of the Old Religion.

For another, what did Renault even wanted from them? He said that they had something that belonged to him, that he was looking for it. Was he a madman? Probably. Was he dangerous? Definitely.

The last question in the series of questions was Alder. He said he was a fletcher, in the service of a minor noble in Essetir. Merlin's gut said that Alder's lord was distinctly _not_ minor, but he could not say for certain whom the lord was. What had Alder been doing on Camelot's lands? Getting lost was a fair excuse, but getting _that_ lost?

Merlin was tempted to hold his head as before. There were too many questions, too many assumptions, not enough answers.

He heard murmuring through the wall. Arthur was talking with someone. "Gwaine? Leon?" He called as loudly as he dared.

"They're here," Arthur assured him.

"How are they?"

"The same." _The same as me_ was the unspoken answer. "Leon heard that sorceress take Percival and Elyan."

"What the hell does he want?" Gwaine asked quietly, so quietly Merlin could barely hear him. "What could he have learned from cutting our hands open?"

Merlin had no answer, but an ominous thought was growing in his mind: Arthur had been taken first, followed by Gwaine and Leon, followed by Percival and Elyan. That only left him and Alder.

Whatever Renault was doing, he would soon know for himself.

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**Check back 12 September around 15:00 UTC for Chapter Four**

**Don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic about the people who have already reviewed. But could the rest of you just take a few seconds and tell me what you think? One word, just a word, will do!**


	4. Answers

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

**Replies to anonymous reviews:**

Guest- Yes, Merlin's magic is exceptionally powerful, but I would not preclude the possibility that there is some magic stronger than his.

wolfchild- Glad you like it!

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**Chapter Four:** **Answers**

The door opened to admit a sallow-faced woman with silver streaks in her dark hair–Rowena. In the flickering light of the torch in the corridor outside, Merlin saw that she wore a long robe with full sleeves. "_Unclyse_," she incanted. The chains that bound him and Alder to the wall came undone, although their ankles were still shackled together. "_Standan in fot_." Merlin stood, even though his mind had not told his body to do so. He and Alder floated slightly above the ground.

She walked up to Alder and laid a hand on the arm that was bound to his chest. "_Purhhaele__ ban se_." Merlin heard a familiar sound–the sound of bone snapping.

Alder gasped and went white as a sheet. "What was that for?" He held the bound limb with his free hand.

"I healed the break," Rowena answered. She untied the binding from his arm. Gingerly, Alder tested his arm. His face betrayed surprise when he discovered that he could move his arm without pain.

"How'd I e'en break my arm in the first place?"

"You fell out of the tree when my lord captured you. A marvel you didn't break your neck," Rowena explained indifferently. She turned and walked down the hall. Merlin and Alder were pulled along after her like captive ghosts. Merlin discovered that he could still do what he liked with his head. He took advantage of this small freedom and looked back at Alder. The astonishment was gone, and there was now fear in the boy's emerald eyes.

They passed two doors on the right and one on the left. Merlin caught fleeting glances at those inside. Arthur, Gwaine, and Leon languished in the first cell they passed, Elyan and Percival in the next. The left-side door led to a room where half a dozen men in dark uniforms sat around a table. All of them were laughing drunkenly at something.

The sorceress drew them to a spiral staircase. Up they went, never actually touching the floor. She passed one corridor by and took them a few paces down the next to a solid door inlaid with decorative metal. She knocked on the wooden portion of the door. "Lord Renault?" she called. "I have brought the final two prisoners."

"Bring them in," someone answered. The metal in the door briefly glowed. Rowena opened the door and compelled Merlin and Alder to follow her.

Like Gaius's workroom, shelves and cupboards lined much of the walls of Renault's room. The shelves themselves were laden with an assortment of books and jars holding things Merlin did not recognise. A desk, neatly organised, sat in the middle of the room. Among the papers, quills, ink bottles, and other knick-knacks on the desk stood a large bowl, black as ebony. Sitting at the desk with his back to them was a man with neatly combed greying hair.

"_Sittan_," Rowena ordered. The two of them dropped unceremoniously into rough chairs, still unable to voluntarily move. Chains on the legs of the chairs sprang to life and wrapped themselves around the prisoners' legs and arms. "Will there be anything else, my lord?"

"No. Wait outside to take them back. Dismissed," Renault said. At the sound of his cold voice, Merlin's heart was gripped by an icy hand of fear. The sorceress left, closing the door behind her. Metal completely covered this side of the door–metal that glowed like embers. Before Merlin could say anything, Renault said, "_Átemian_." He felt his tongue twist back on itself, rendering him mute. "Welcome to my humble abode," Renault told his captives, standing and turning to face them.

If Merlin had been standing, the man before him would have only come up to his shoulder. His face was as pale as milk. In contrast with his pasty skin, his coal-black eyes smouldered like dark fire. He wore a fine cambric shirt under a quilted tunic. His trousers were crafted from good leather.

"A word of warning to the both of you: don't try to break the chains. I know you," he glanced at Merlin, "have attempted it twice. Please, don't try again. There's a spell on them that reflects the magic back on you. You could kill yourself if you push it. Now, I know you have questions," Renault continued amicably, "and I will answer only one from each of you, so choose wisely. Why not start with you?" He pointed at Alder, his eyes momentarily glowing gold. "You look like you have much to say."

The fear in Alder's eyes had been replaced by a fierce, almost defiant, glare. He gagged a bit before asking, "If yeh could ever so kindly tell me, what business have yeh kidnappin' me?"

Renault threw back his head and laughed maniacally. "What a question!" he crowed. "They all ask some variation of that, but none so audaciously as you. 'Who are you,' they always ask. 'What do you want? Where am I?' Well, to answer you, Master…"

"Fletcher," Alder supplied.

"To answer you, Master Fletcher, you have something I want. And you will not leave this place until I get it. Do you know what I speak of?"

"What do I got to interest yeh?" Alder queried in return. He watched Renault with caution now.

Nothing prepared the two prisoners for what Renault did next. He flew –quite literally _flew_– over the desk and shoved Alder back. The chair in which the boy sat tipped and would have toppled over, had Renault not grabbed the front of his shirt and held him up. "You trespassed on my estate," he said simply, his cordial voice contradicting his mad expression. "By the law of my land, anything of value on your person becomes my property. I told you that before, or did it not sink into your puerile head?"

"What did I have of value but a bow, arrows, some feathers and a little glue?"

"You know what I speak of." Renault's voice dropped an octave to a dark, ominous whisper. "Your magic, as little of a gift as it is, is worth far more than anything else you have." He walked around to stand behind Alder. Even though Renault had let go of him, Alder still sat tipped back. Merlin saw that Renault's eyes glowed, not just with magic but with hunger. "Your magic belongs to me through two laws. First, by the law of my land. Second," he leaned down to whisper in Alder's ear. "My need is greater than your need. Therefore, the magic is rightfully mine." Alder looked straight ahead, wide-eyed and terrified of the monster literally breathing down his neck. The monster morphed back into the cordial, slightly insane Renault. He set Alder's chair back on all four feet. "And now," he turned his mad eyes on Merlin. "What have you to ask?"

Merlin certainly had more than one question to ask. Who this beast was, where they were, what he planned to do, what happened to his magic –all of these were good questions. Of course, when his tongue disentangled itself, his mind jumped to the least useful question. "What do you do when you cut our hands?"

"That is part of the investigation. I sense your bound magic even now, the most powerful I have ever felt," he added with a sick, predatory smile that made Merlin's skin crawl. "Your investigation will be most enjoyable, Master Merlin, so I will grant you a longer answer." He noted Merlin's look of surprise. "Oh yes, your king _told_ me all about you. Now then, on to my tale. I have a great calling, bestowed upon me by the gods. I am to lead an uprising against the rulers of this land and restore the Old Religion to its proper place. To do that, I must amass power. By power, I do not mean solely magic; determination, courage, sheer force of will–all of these qualities can, and will, be needed as well.

"In the investigation, cutting the right hand shows me these qualities. They manifest themselves differently in each person, but when I cut them I find what I am looking for. In a word, I know who you _are_. And, I must say, I find the experience rather exciting." He leered wickedly.

Merlin's stomach turned at the thought of this horrible man knowing what made him. "And you–"

Renault jumped, his face inches from Merlin's, eyes blazing. "Silence!" He calmed slightly and continued, slowly pacing around his chair. "Anyway, the left hand shows me your secrets, your fears, your shame. I have found that those memories are the easiest way in. An allegory, perhaps." He pulled an egg out of nowhere. "Imagine that this is your head. Rather shaped like your head, isn't it." He laughed at his own joke. "This crack," he hit the egg on the side of his desk and showed them the now-sizable crack running the length of the shell, "is your deepest secret. Later on," he dug a fingernail into the crack. The egg split open easily, the yolk and white running into the bowl on the desk. "I will reap those qualities we spoke of by tapping into that secret.

"I've been at this for two years now, understand? I've taken talent and magic from hundreds of people. Even if your magic is the strongest I have ever seen, what chance do you have resisting the weight of my amassed power?" His voice turned dark. "And, on the off chance that you do break out and live to tell the tale, I will know the instant you are free. I will kill the rest of your friends, beginning with Arthur. I will make you watch as I slit their throats and let them bleed out. And then you will be the last to die, knowing that you failed them.

"Now, shall we begin?" His eyes glowed and the chains around Merlin's legs and arms fell away. He was forced to shuffle forward. Renault grabbed his right arm and held it over the bowl on his desk. The egg bits had vanished from the bowl.

No matter how Merlin tried to twist away, he could not break Renault's grip. His legs were anchored to the floor. He scrambled for the barest trickle of magic, but it had fled him entirely in his panic. All he could do was watch as Renault drew an ornate knife and drew it across his right palm. It hurt like a line of fire had been drawn across his hand. Merlin bit the inside of his cheek rather than cry out.

Blood welled up out of the open cut and slowly dripped into the bowl. When the first drop hit, Merlin felt the floor vanish. He was falling through darkness.

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**Check back on 15 September for Chapter Five. And keep sending those reviews in!**


	5. Investigation

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

**Replies to anonymous reviews:**

Guest- You bring up a very good point. I value this discussion, but could we please continue it via PM?

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**Chapter Five: Investigation**

Merlin landed in the training yard of Camelot with his foot on a shield. "Hey, come on, that's enough," he said cheerily. Why on earth was he feeling so untroubled? He was being tortured by a brutal, sadistic creep, not enjoying a morning stroll! Contradictions aside, he was outside, and he did feel light-hearted.

Before him, surrounded by young noblemen in leather practice clothes and light armour, stood a youth a few years older than himself. His dark blond hair and blue eyes stood out in contrast with the quilted scarlet tunic, gorget, and pauldron on his right shoulder. His face displayed an arrogant and slightly incredulous look. "What?"

"You've had your fun, my friend." The shield, the object of the youth's 'fun,' had several throwing knives sticking out of it. The manservant who had carried the shield was backing slowly away from the two of them.

"Do I know you?" the blond boy asked the raven-haired boy.

"I'm Merlin," Merlin said, holding a hand out.

The other boy ignored the offered hand. "So I don't know you."

Merlin got the feeling that he was in very big trouble. "No," he admitted.

"Yet you called me 'friend'."

"That was my mistake."

"Yes, I think so," the arrogant boy affirmed smugly.

Merlin would not be so easily cowed. "Yeah, I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass." He heard, with mixed satisfaction and worry, the astounded laughter startled from the crowd of onlookers.

_My, my, weren't you the mouthy peasant_, a silvery voice remarked, though not aloud. He whirled around to face Renault, but instead he found himself in a spinning vortex of colours and sounds. Underlying it all was an alien presence–a sick, wicked delight that he knew was not his own.

"Why would someone use magic like that?" That voice was his own, younger and more innocent than he had felt in a long time.

"Magic corrupts," Gaius's voice answered. "People use it for their own ends."

"But not all magic is bad. I know it isn't."

"It's neither good nor bad," Gaius amended his previous statement. "It's how you use it."

Merlin grappled for control of the situation, tried to drive Renault out of his mind. But he felt himself being forced to his knees. Chains wrapped themselves around him, thin and incredibly strong. A slim figure in chain mail stood over him. Her hair was a light gold colour, and her sharp eyes dark. Those eyes still haunted his nightmares.

"You intrigue me, Merlin," Morgause began. "Why does a lowly servant continue to risk everything for Arthur and for Camelot?" He glanced around, not willing to meet her eyes. "You know the answer, but you're not telling me. Why?" She began to pace as he trembled. Yes, he was afraid of her, and with good reason. He knew what she was capable of. "Oh, come on. Time and again, you put your life on the line." She crouched down next to him. "There must be a reason."

"I believe in a fair and just land," Merlin managed to say without a tremor in his voice.

"And you think Arthur will give you that."

He did not meet her eyes, lest he betray that there was more. "I know it."

Morgause seemed to accept that, for now. "And then what? You think you'll be recognised, Merlin? Is that it?" She was scornful now. "All this so, one day, you can be a serving boy to the king?" He said nothing, not knowing a logical comeback for that.

It was no good; his silence gave him away. "No," she realised. "There's something more. Something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

He finally met her eyes. "I told you," he insisted. Was it his imagination, or were her eyes growing even darker, her hair shorter and greyer?

"Well, you can take your secret to your grave." Merlin refused to look away, looking up at the high priestess in defiance. "_Weorc untoworpenlic_," she said, her eyes briefly glowing. The chains around him, already tight, constricted painfully.

_Such loyalty_, Renault's voice sounded in his head. Morgause finished her transformation into the monster who was invading his mind. _No wonder Arthur values you so._

Merlin felt revulsion rise up in him like vomit. Not at Arthur, but at Renault. The loathing seemed to melt the chains away. They dissolved like ice in high summer as he stood to face Renault, but it was not Renault anymore. It was Agravaine.

"Where's Arthur?" the king's uncle demanded. There was no false kindness in his voice or face now; he meant business, and that business was killing his own nephew. A band of Southron mercenaries stood at his back.

"Be careful," Merlin warned. Whether they were careful or not, he had already made up his mind on what needed to happen.

"What are you talking about?" Agravaine glanced around like he expected a horde of fighters to pop out of the walls. "Where's Arthur?" he repeated. Merlin stayed silent. "Tell me. Now. Or I'll have to kill you," the would-be regicide cautioned.

Part of Merlin wished that there was another way to solve this, but the rest of him knew he was in too deep to back out now. "I don't think so," he said simply. No bravado or boasting, only the quiet certitude that what was about to happen had to happen if he was to protect Arthur.

Agravaine stared in shock for a second before stepping forward to carry out his threat. For a moment, his visage flickered. Eyes that were not his blazed with anticipation of what Merlin would do.

Merlin put this observation out of his mind. One silent bolt of magic, and the entire group standing before him was flung backward. As they flew, part of him cried in horror at what he had done. The part of him that remembered days when his only worries were cleaning Arthur's armour, acting as a practise dummy on the training field, and secretly slaying the occasional monster. In those days, he never had to massacre with such ruthlessness, never had to kill others simply because they followed the wrong man.

They were dead before they landed, or so he thought. As he stepped forward to find Arthur and the others, Agravaine awoke and fought to catch his breath. He looked over at the manservant in astonishment as he stumbled to his feet. Merlin waited.

"You have magic!" Agravaine managed to gasp.

"I was born with it," Merlin stated.

Agravaine's smile dropped as he realised the gravity of that declaration. According to Morgana, only one person had ever been born with that much raw power. The one who was her destiny and her doom. "So it's you. You're Emrys."

"That is what the druids call me."

"And you've been at court, all this time," the older man said. He kept walking closer to Merlin. The smile on his face was one of ease and familiarity. "At Arthur's side. How you've managed to deceive him…I am impressed." For a second time, Agravaine's face slipped into something akin to Renault's face. _Perhaps we're more alike than you think._

Merlin winced. Those last words had not been spoken by Agravaine, but hissed in his very mind in Renault's true voice.

Renault knew what was coming next. He had learned it by plundering Merlin's memory. Merlin knew his thoughts as well. Ordinarily, he relished in watching memories flow as they had occurred in the past, not skipping anything. But, this once, the monster could not resist moving past the next few seconds to the finale.

Agravaine drew a hidden blade and came at Merlin. Instinctively, he put both hands out and _pushed_ back. Agravaine flew several feet. He landed with a horrible crunch, his wide eyes never closing.

For a few moments, there was no sound, no movement, no thought on either Merlin's or Renault's part. Then, horror of horrors, Agravaine stood up. His face twisted into a vicious, exhilarated leer. "Oh, yes," he rumbled. "You have much to give."

They were back in Renault's study. Renault still gripped Merlin's right wrist. The cut in his palm continued bleeding into the bowl. He was surprised to discover that his face was wet with tear tracks.

Renault let go of his wrist, only to take his other one. Merlin was too dazed to do anything. Savouring every moment, Renault slowly drew the bloodied blade across his left palm. Merlin felt his mind explode in a mass of emotions, not memories as it had before.

The horror of seeing a man's head roll free from his shoulders. The fear of knowing that his own head might be next if he was caught practising magic.

The self-hatred as he held his one-time friend while she was dying of the poison he had given her. Knowing that she had to die if Arthur and Camelot were to live did nothing to stay the regret.

The constant fear that all would miscarry, that some unknown would come and destroy everything that he and Arthur had built. Everything that Merlin had sworn to protect with all of his heart, soul, mind, and strength.

And, deep down, something else grew. Something he either could not name or did not want to name. But Renault sought it out, dragging it up to the light. Merlin fought him as best as he could. Renault already knew everything else. Could he not allow one corner to go untouched, one scrap of privacy to remain?

No. The monster enjoyed the challenge of stealing this one more secret.

One single image: a darkened mirror. Merlin shrank back from the reflection. It was not a human, but merely the shell of one. Merciless, it never wavered in its single-minded pursuit of an impossible dream. It would strike down anyone who stood in the way. And, even if that dream was somehow made real, this _thing_ he saw would have no humanity left to enjoy it.

He did not know when it ended. He was dimly aware of cloths being wrapped around his palms. When he sat back down, the chains cocooned him in their solid, wonderfully real grasp.

Merlin came out of his stupor when he heard other chains rattling. Alder was flailing, desperately trying to escape. He put up such a fight that Renault had to pin him down to the desk to get at his hand. He drew another knife and sliced the boy's palm.

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**Check back on 18 September for Chapter Six.**


	6. Taken

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

**Replies to anonymous reviews:**

Guest- Thanks!

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**Chapter Six: Taken**

Alder instantly stopped struggling. Carefully, never letting go off his wrist, Renault moved around the desk. He moved like a man in a dream–slowly, languidly, his eyes closed.

Alder twitched, like someone had poked him with a pin. "John's got a da," he said in a childlike voice. "Alice's got a da. Will's got only a da. Where's my da?" His head suddenly jerked to the side, as if he had been slapped across the face.

"Shut yer gob," Renault snapped in a voice that was not entirely his own. It sounded like a woman's voice, careworn and severe. Merlin watched, horrified but unable to tear his gaze from them. They were reliving Alder's memories, Renault playing whatever part was opposite Alder.

"He done it!" Renault shouted in a harsh man's voice. "He beat up my son!"

"I did not," Alder replied. He sounded older than a child now, but still younger than he was presently.

"Lyin' bastard!" Renault screeched in the voice of a young boy. "Yeh blacked my eye and broke my arm. Yeh nearabout broke my neck!"

"Yeh're the bastard–" Alder started to retort when his head jolted again.

Unnervingly, Renault spoke in overlapping voices and tones. "Never trusted 'im–"

"Creepy, those great green eyes."

"Ne'er been the same after that time–"

"Ma, where can I go? I don' know anywhere but Stonesbury." Alder was frightened.

Renault spoke as Alder's mother. "Go to yer father in Huntaburgh. I know, I never told yeh 'bout him, but if yeh stay here yeh'll be killed. Take his ring here and go. His name's Dan Fletcher. Tell him yeh're Lara's boy."

"But, Ma…" Alder sounded stupefied by the sudden revelation about his father.

"Go! Get out!" The first word was spoken by Alder's mother; the second and third words by an entirely new voice. It belonged to a man who spoke without the broad peasant's accent that all of Renault's other voices possessed.

"Yeh gave my ma this ring!" Alder shouted back. "Her name's Lara. She's in Locksley, near the Camelot border."

Sudden silence. Alder shook so hard he would have fallen if his feet were not anchored to the floor. Renault also shook, but not from fear. "Well now," the monster commented. "You're not as spectacular of a source as Master Merlin here, but you'll do." He dropped Alder's right arm and turned to pick up his left. He drew the blade on the boy's hand. Merlin watched the blood drip and land in the bowl.

Without a flash or a noise or a warning of any kind, both Renault and Alder were thrown back from the desk. Merlin did not see where Renault landed, but Alder slammed into Merlin's chair. He dropped unconscious to the floor and silence fell once more. Merlin tried to move, to speak, to make some sound. But he found that he could not. A cut in Alder's head began to course dark red blood.

Renault unexpectedly arose from behind the desk like a demon out of the earth. Merlin involuntarily shuddered at the sight of him. The relish in his eyes had grown to a definite fire of elation and ecstasy. "Oh, yes," he whispered. "Oh, yes!"

He appeared to have forgotten that anyone else was even in the room. He leaned against his desk, looking out the window. Then he began to laugh. It began as a rough chuckle and swelled into a resounding, over-the-moon, feral sound that was more roaring than laughter. He stopped abruptly and went to the door. The metal ceased glowing when he opened it.

"Take the prisoners back, Rowena." he ordered the sorceress outside. Without a glance at the manservant or the unresponsive boy, Renault left the room, cackling madly.

Rowena took them back to their cell as she had before. She attached their chains to the wall again and swept out of the room. As the door clanged shut, Merlin looked over at Alder. He had not moved of his own accord since…since the investigation. He looked grisly with the blood from his cut painting a bright red half-mask on his face.

A terrible sense of loneliness came over Merlin. Alder may be in the same room, Arthur and the knights may be nearby, but he was helpless and alone. No, not quite alone. There was only him and Renault. Even in his own mind, he was not truly alone. His thoughts, his dreams, his fears, everything had been violated.

"Merlin?" A voice called him back. That voice –quiet, friendly, worried– was a welcome sound.

"Arthur," Merlin breathed back through the wall. "Are you alright?"

"I should be asking you that."

In spite of what he had just undergone, he smiled slightly. "I'll be fine." That was a promise. Not just for Arthur, but for himself. He had to fine.

"Attention, men of Camelot." Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin. _Not again. Not again_, he thought in desperation. To his relief, Renault stayed outside in the corridor. "Oh, and bastard from the Camelot border."

"Shut up about Merlin!" several voices yelled, along with some colourful suggestions about Renault's parentage and activities.

"So protective of a lowly commoner," Renault remarked coolly, not even annoyed by the insults.

"A man with more worth than you could ever hope to have." He was sure that low voice was Arthur's.

"Oh tut, do you even _know_ him, Arthur Pendragon? Has he told you the truth? For that matter, does he know the truth about himself?"

Merlin paled. Renault knew what all of them thought of him, knew that not one of his friends from Camelot was aware of his magic. If he told them now…

He was so preoccupied with Renault's insinuation that he nearly missed what was said next. "I told Master Merlin of my great calling, but I'll fill you all in as well. It is my destiny to gather power and magic until I can rise up and restore the Old Religion. Thanks to you, I will have the power I need within a week. I only need wait a few more days before I can reap the bounty that has so unexpectedly tumbled into my lap.

"Do be sure to tell the bastard when he awakens, will you? _He_ is the reason my mission will soon be fulfilled. The rest of you?" He scoffed. "I could do without the power you have to give." Merlin heard Renault's heavy footsteps tramping away.

"Merlin," Arthur said. "That boy, is he still in the cell with you?"

"Yes. And he is unconscious," Merlin replied distantly. Cautiously he made his way to Alder. The boy lay where he had fallen when Rowena released her spells. Merlin noticed, belatedly, that Renault had forgotten to bind up the wounds in his hands. Again he sacrificed his shirt hem for bandages.

As he wrapped the cloth around Alder's right palm, images appeared in his mind. A small village, not unlike Ealdor. A massive castle of square towers on an otherwise empty plain. A bow, only half-made, resting on a wooden bench among leftover scraps of wood. Beside the bow, a quiver of arrows fletched with grey and black feathers.

Merlin drew his hand away. There was blood on it, blood that was not his. He felt sick, disgusted with himself. Some of the magic from Renault's investigation must have hung on. It was bad enough that any of them had been forced to go through that once. For any one of them to have a second go at it was worse. For Merlin to be the (inadvertent) instigator of it was horrifying.

He did not get a chance to rectify. The cell door swung open noisily to admit a complete stranger. It was one of the guards, plastered drunk. He clutched a large war hammer. "Found 'em!" he called behind him. Raucous laughter from the other guards floated through the doorway. The guard lumbered toward Merlin and took a swing at him with the hammer.

Merlin ducked. The hammer smashed into the wall above him and Alder. "What are you doing?!" he yelled furiously. He heard Arthur and the others in the cells next to him shouting.

The guard looked at him in surprise. "Oh." He teetered and almost fell as he looked more closely at Merlin. "Not you. T' other one." He moved to the side, closer to Alder, and lifted his hammer once more.

Merlin propelled himself into the guard and knocked him aside before he could strike the boy. Furious, the guard lashed back at Merlin. He ducked, and by doing so did not see the other fist coming. He felt himself sail back and collide with the opposite wall.

When he was aware again, the hammer lay on the floor next to him, along with a chain leading to a wall. A chain with one link smashed, rendering it useless. The guard was dragging Alder behind him. Merlin caught a glimpse at the boy. He appeared to be unharmed, aside from his left palm bleeding, the gash in his forehead, and still being unconscious. The guard slammed the door behind him.

"Merlin, answer me!" That desperate command brought back his wits.

"Arthur, they took Alder."

"Who?"

"The boy!" Merlin began to explain what happened.

Through the door, he heard the sound of water splashing. Someone coughed and choked. "Glad you're awake," the guard shouted, slurring his words. "S'always better when they're awake." The other guards guffawed noisily. "Shut UP!" the first one bellowed. They obeyed, save for a few low snickers. "You got sumfin milord wants."

"I told him." Merlin struggled to hear Alder's low voice. "I got nothin'–"

A punch silenced him. "Don' gimme that," the guard warned. "I'll ask one more time. What does he want?"

"Search me," Alder said.

"Oh, I will," the guard promised. "I will thru– thor– thoru–" he stumbled, and then gave up trying to pronounce the word. Merlin could do nothing. He heard fists striking, chains rattling, gasps of pain, and the other guards sniggering at the spectacle. "Now, lads," the first one announced. "Let's see how this little f–"

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" a livid voice roared.

"L-l-lord Renault! I was g-getting inf–"

"You know as well as I that was not what you were doing," Renault uttered in a low hiss. "Barracks, all of you." Feet that were trying very hard to march and not to run away stole past the cells. "Now, Master Fletcher–"

"_Don't touch me!_" Alder snarled.

"You're bruised and bleeding. I forgot to bandage your hands and–"

"If you touch me again, I will snap your neck." Alder's voice went uncompromising and cold. Even Merlin, who was not in the same room, felt the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. Though he had known the boy for less than a day, the voice he heard did not belong to the Alder he knew.

Renault did not reply. Merlin's door opened again. Renault stuck his head in. "Get out here," he ordered. His eyes glowed and the chain fell away. Merlin was still shackled, but no longer fettered to the wall. "You have a physician's training. Your companion is injured. But be warned."

The shackles around Merlin's legs suddenly constricted. For a terrible few seconds, he thought the metal would cut straight through the flesh and bone. The chains relaxed, now slippery with blood.

Renault spoke directly in his thoughts. _If you attempt any magic, no matter how small, the shackles will completely close, no matter what is in their way. Understand?_ He shook Merlin's mind the way one would shake a child in an attempt to make them understand.

"Now get up and follow me. Your companion is hurt," he repeated, just in case Merlin had forgotten. The manservant jumped to his feet. Renault handed him a wooden bucket filled with water and a pile of cloths. The monster allowed him to walk instead of causing him to float along. They came to the left-hand door. Renault opened it and, to Merlin's astonishment, held it open for him.

The room was where Merlin had seen the guards before. A worn table and some overturned chairs were the only furnishings. A weak torch bolted to the wall flickered. Just out of its light, tucked into a corner, lay a pile of limbs and dirty cloth. Alder.

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**Check back on 21 September for Chapter Seven.**


	7. Kindnesses

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

**Replies to anonymous reviews: (and there are several unsigned reviews)**

Guest- Well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine. Anyway, you bring up more good points. My offer to continue our discussion via PM still stands. There, I can explain my decisions to your satisfaction.

Another guest- Glad you like my story!

Yet another guest- Thanks!

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**Chapter Seven: Kindnesses**

Merlin hurried as quickly as he could without spilling the water. He set it aside and knelt beside Alder. He could not see how badly the boy was hurt in the dim light. However, his knees were drawn up to his chest, and his breath came in short and painful wheezes.

"Alder." He laid a careful hand on his shoulder. Alder drew a sharp breath and shrank away from his touch before relaxing.

"Merlin," he exhaled.

"I can help, but I need you to sit up against the wall," Merlin told him. The boy nodded and shifted carefully with Merlin's assistance. In a distant corner of his mind, he noted that Renault had left the room. _No_, he reprimanded himself. _Don't think of that monster. Think of Alder. _He_ is the one who needs help now._

Alder now sat in the light of the torch, and Merlin did not like what he saw. His clothes, in ratty condition to begin with, were more torn and dirty than ever. Through the tears in his shirt, hideous bruises were turning from red to purple. The cuts in his head and left hand bled sluggishly.

First things first, he had to clean the blood from Alder's face. He soaked a rag in the water and gently began dabbing the red away. Both winced as the beginnings of a black eye surfaced from under the blood.

"I told 'em, I got nothin'," Alder repeated quietly.

"I know." Merlin decided it would be alright for him to talk. To keep him distracted.

"Renault got here afore–afore anythin' bad happened."

"I know." The fury he felt raging through him did not transmit to his hands, he made sure of that. There was no need for Alder to suffer any more than he already had.

"Why pick on me? I'm a nobody fletcher. Always have been, always will be."

"You're not nobody." He pressed a clean rag to the slash on the boy's brow. Alder cringed, but did not push him away.

"I'm a bastard. Ma's in a border village, Da's off in Huntaburgh. He's seen her once, 'bout twenty year ago. Gave her a ring and promised to come back." He grimaced. "Didn' even know he had a son."

Merlin could not bring himself to say that he already knew, that Alder had spoken his memories aloud. He wondered how much _he_ had said. In any case, his suspicion about the lord who employed Alder's family was confirmed. He was certainly not minor; Huntaburgh was Lot's castle. The lord was none other than Lot himself.

"I didn't know my father either," he admitted. It seemed like a good thing to say.

"Then you know the starin', the whispers."

"Yeah. Feeling like you're an outcast." Now for the tricky part: Alder's left hand. Whether the magic of Renault's investigation still hung around or not, Merlin did not want to know. Never touching the dried blood with his hands, he cleaned the cut and bound it up. Thankfully, not one strange image or sound came to him.

Renault came back into the room. "Come with me," he commanded.

"Where?" Merlin felt bold enough to ask.

"Somewhere safe," was all Renault said.

"He's still hurt. I need to finish treating him."

"Do not tax my patience," Renault said. His eyes glowed and the shackles tightened.

Merlin could not think. He should fight this monster. He should stand up and destroy him. But the pain was too much. He could not fight, could not fight, could not fight…

The pain stopped abruptly. "Now," Renault repeated. Quaking slightly, Merlin got to his feet and gently helped Alder rise. He kept a hand on his shoulder as they followed Renault out into the corridor. But, instead of going back into their cell, he led them to the stairwell.

Merlin momentarily froze. _He's taking us back to his study_, he thought in a panic. But instead of going up, Renault began going down. He fought to regain control of his shaky breath and palpitating heart.

The stairs were narrow and uneven. There was not enough room for two to walk side by side, so Merlin went in front of the boy. Some ways down, they came to a doubly deep stair. It was a simple and effective trap. Someone running down the stairs would not see it, especially if that someone was trying to escape. They would fall headlong, mostly likely breaking their neck. Carefully, the three of them stepped down. They continued on without mishap.

Renault led them down for much longer than Rowena had taken them up. Alder's breathing grew laboured. Renault finally stepped off into another corridor, one with considerably better light. The door he directed them through was as imposing as the one that led to his study upstairs. This new room had at one time been a storage room, as evident by the four large wooden shelves that lined the walls. The shelves were stacked two high and were empty now, apart from thin blankets. They were meant to be beds, Merlin realised.

"Your new home!" Renault announced it like it was a fabulous gift. To Merlin and Alder, it was certainly a few steps up from the cell where they had been kept before. In spite of this, the two looked at their captor guardedly. Such gifts did not come freely. "Now don't look so suspicious. I'm actually doing you a favour. But remember my warning." It may have been Merlin's imagination, but his chains felt not quite as loose as they had been.

Renault left the room and closed the door. If he put a spell on the door, it was too thick for them to hear.

Merlin helped Alder to sit carefully on the lower shelf just to the right of the door. "He's up to something," the boy remarked.

"I should look at your bruises," Merlin said. He tried to roll up one of Alder's sleeves when the boy gently pushed his hands away. The black eye had swollen up so that he could no longer see out of that eye.

"I'm fine. Jus' knackered."

"You're wounded–" Merlin started.

"Not you, too. Please, just don't." It went against Merlin's instinct to give up, but the pain he saw in Alder's face was akin to what he felt when Renault stripped all privacy from him, when he was forced to share his darkest secrets. It was the pain he had heard in Arthur's voice.

Arthur! What had become of him? Merlin felt panic rising in his chest. He turned away and moved to the other end of the room. He suddenly grasped the significance of the eight 'beds.' Arthur and the others would soon be there.

He began inspecting the room in more detail. It was narrow and long. Even with two bunk beds on each side of the room, there was enough space at the opposite end of the room for another. A barred window near the ceiling at this end told him that the room was only just below ground. Thick underbrush grew less than a yard away from the window. Fresh hay covered the floor.

He went back and pulled himself on to the bunk at the foot of Alder's shelf. Neither of them spoke for a time. Soon he grew restless and had to start pacing, if 'pacing' was the right word for the shuffle allowed to him by the shackles.

"What 'bout yer father?" Alder asked as he trundled by. He had carefully lain down on his shelf under the blanket.

Merlin paused a moment in order to invent a suitable answer, one that would not raise too many more questions. "He loved my mother, but he had leave."

"_Had_ to?" The emphasis was scornful, and Alder knew as soon as he said it that he was out of line.

"Uther would have killed him and Mother if he stayed!" Merlin fired back. "Whether Ealdor was in Essetir or not made no difference to him."

"So yeh got yer magic from him," Alder surmised after a few moments' silence.

Merlin realised too late that this boy was remarkably observant to have picked that detail up so quickly. He would have to be careful how much he told him. "And your father?"

"Met 'im two year ago," he said shortly. "I had to leave my village, or they'd've killed me, like Uther would've yer father." He looked directly at Merlin, conveying wordlessly that he was sorry for his words. His one good eye began to droop closed.

"You had to leave because of your magic?"

"Nah. I'm bloody useless at it. I can start a hearth fire or put one out, sure, but nothin' more than that. Still, even if everyone knew that, they still didn' trust me, 'specially not after the mound…" His voice trailed off. Merlin let him sleep.

He kept pacing. Now that Alder was asleep, there was no distraction to keep the shadows at bay. The shadows that Renault's assault cast on him and the shadows that the attack made surface. There were places in his heart that he did not care to spend too much time thinking about because, in those places, there was nothing good.

Unbidden, a long-forgotten memory sprang forth in his mind. He stood on the edge of a cliff in a large cavern. A strong wind buffeted him, almost blowing out the torch he carried. The wind of a dragon's wings beating the air as he took off. "Wait!" he called. "Where does it say my destiny includes murder?"

He found himself lying on the floor, shaking. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he could see that reflection from the dark mirror, that man he became more like every time he killed someone. And he had once balked at murder! How hollow those words sounded now. How many people had he killed because they stood in the way? How had he allowed himself to become so cold, so heartless?

He knew that his destiny demanded it. It was a weight, crushing the air out of him, squeezing the life and joy out of his existence. But he also knew, burden though it was, he would never willingly give it up. Someone had to keep an eye on the dollop-head.

Pacing would not get them out of the dungeon. Although, if he paced long enough, he might wear a groove in the floor and then…Merlin shook his head. When his reflections wandered to be being that far-fetched, it was time to stop. He did so, and stretched out on his bunk, surprised at how tired he actually was.

His last waking thought was that Arthur would be coming soon. Whether he could use his magic or not, they would work out a way to escape. They had to. He knew that they were doomed if they stayed.

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**Again, I am (mostly) overjoyed by the reviews people have written so far, but could you please sign them? Even if you don't have a FanFiction account, just write your name in the top box. After this chapter, I will no longer respond to unsigned reviews.**

**The box the right below these words. Everyone take a few seconds to tell me what you think! **

**And check on 24 September for Chapter Eight.**


	8. Afraid

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

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**Chapter Eight: Afraid**

Merlin opened his eyes. Arthur and the others stood before him. Their faces wore blank expressions, no pain or sorrow or joy. He tried to sit up, but he could only open his eyes. Every other part of his body remained immobile. Slowly the bodies before him faded away like mist in the first rays of the dawn. He wanted to move, to stop them from leaving, but they disappeared. In their places, lights like lanterns floated some feet above the ground.

Before he could get a better look at the lights or count them, he was jerked awake by something tying him up. When he opened his eyes, he saw what it was. There had been ropes lying beneath the bunks. They tied themselves around him, and then wound around the bunk. Another black gag cut off the shout of surprise rising from his throat. He could not budge an inch. The reason for such restraints made itself known when Renault opened the door and five shackled men filed in. His heart lifted–it was Arthur and the knights! Their faces were not cheerful, in fact they looked haunted. But that was a thousand times better than the apathy he had seen in his nightmare.

His joy was cut short by Renault's silky voice. "You are here for your own safety," he told them. He set down two buckets inside the door, reached for something behind him, and set a burlap sack next to the buckets. Merlin could not see what was in any of them. "I will be honest with you. All of you are aware by now, some more than others, that I can no longer trust my guards." He glanced significantly at Alder. Merlin saw that he was bound and gagged as well. "I must wait for some days before I can call up the one I seek, so here is where you will stay." Without further ado, he closed the door. The ropes and gags dropped away, slithering back under the beds like snakes.

"Merlin, thank God," Arthur said. He looked the worst for wear. Dark circles under his eyes contrasted with the pallor of his skin. "We worried when Renault took you."

"You were worried for me?" Merlin's question was not phrased as a joke; he saw the genuine relief in all of their faces.

"We heard the guards," Elyan said as the knights settled on shelves, "When you didn't come back after Renault threw them out, we thought he'd killed you."

"What happened to 'em?" inquired a wearied voice. Alder had risen from his bed and approached them, though he remained a few paces back. The swelling on his face had gone down so that he could see out of both eyes. He clutched a blanket around him.

"You're Alder?" Arthur asked, looking a bit more like a king he was than he had seconds before.

"I am," the boy replied resignedly.

"You're a sorcerer?"

"Not that it'll do me any good here." When Arthur opened his mouth, Alder explained further. "I can start a hearth fire or put one out, but nothin' more than that. And e'en if I could, there's sommat in the chains that keeps me from usin' magic. I don' dare try to break 'em or I'll kill myself."

Merlin glanced at his chains. Could he do it? He did not think that any spell Renault cast could keep him bound for long, but if he did survive breaking the chain, he knew his chances of surviving the blood loss were not good.

Even if he could survive, something else made him hesitated. But before he could decide what that something else was, he was brought back from his musings by Alder. "What happened to the guards?" the boy asked again.

Leon spoke this time. "Renault put the guards in your old cell, except for one of them. Said something about making an example of him." Alder nodded once and shuffled past them to look out the window.

"Hey, look at this." Gwaine had gone to examine the buckets and bag by the door. From the sack, he pulled out some loaves of bread and a wooden bowl. He threw the bread at the others. Merlin caught one and discovered that it was surprisingly only a day old. Gwaine carried the buckets and bowl to them. The larger bucket held water; the other was empty.

"How long have we been here?" Merlin asked. He helped the others tear up the bread into shares for the seven of them.

"It was evening when we were captured," Arthur recalled.

"We slept out the night," Elyan added. "I overheard the guards."

"Then there was yesterday, and now today," Leon finished. Merlin looked in surprise out the window. It was indeed dawn. He also realised how hungry he was, his last meal having been the fish two nights before.

He picked up his bread, plus one for Alder, and walked to where he looked out the window. "Here." He handed some bread to the boy.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry." Alder looked out the window at freedom, separated from it only by a few metal bars.

"When did you last eat? Before we were captured?" Alder did not answer. "It's been two days since then."

Alder gave in. Taking his piece, he sank to the floor to eat. Merlin sat across from him. The boy took his time, chewing so slowly that he had eaten less than half by the time Merlin polished off his.

"Merlin," he started quietly. "I–I don' know how to say this, but yesterday…Yeh spoke aloud." His eyes shifted quickly, never looking in one direction for more than a second. "I heard…everythin'."

Merlin did not know what to think. Oddly, he was at peace with the admission. If he had heard Alder's memories, it was only reasonable that Alder had heard his.

He looked at the boy. The morning light struck his eyes and illuminated the emerald irises with a tinge of ash. Those eyes were tortured, haunted by the horrors they had seen and endured. "I know."

Alder looked to the floor, his expression pained. "Yeh know," he repeated. "Yeh _know_."

Merlin did not know what to say or do. What comfort could he offer for this boy? What consolation could be given to ease the pain? He appreciated the hurting; he felt it himself.

Gently, he put a hand on Alder's shoulder. Alder grasped the manservant's hand in thanks.

"I was tellin' yeh 'bout the mound…" Alder started to say.

"You don't have t–"

"I need to," Alder said grimly. That shut Merlin up. "There's a strange mound a ways out of my village, Stonesbury. No one knows what it's for or how long it's been there or anythin'." He paused, took a breath to steel himself, and continued. "I went poking 'round it and…I remember a door opening…what I truly remember next is waking up, tied to a tree. People said they found me wandering around the forest and, when they tried to stop me, I turned on them."

Merlin listened, completely captivated not only by his words but by the transformation he saw in the boy. Though he still looked at the floor, the expression on his face was changed. It reminded him of Gaius when the old physician spoke of the past. He seemed older, looked as though he had seen much pain. His voice also changed. It became steadier and more distinct, not muddled by his usual thick brogue.

Merlin glanced at the knights, but they were engaged in their own discussion and did not notice. "It went on like that for a few months," Alder continued. "Every now and then, I would black out, not remember anything for a while. And–and people said I was going mad. They did not like me in the first place because I did not know my father and–"

Gwaine dropped down to sit on the floor with the two of them. "I don't believe we've met," he said, as cheerful as if they were in the tavern, not being held captive by a madman.

"No, we haven't," Alder agreed coolly. He watched Gwaine carefully, his manner reverting back to suspicious instantly.

"Well, I'm Gwaine. What's your name?"

"Alder."

"Cheery lad, aren't you?" Alder answered this with a single raised eyebrow. "It's a joke," Gwaine explained deadpan.

"Forgive me if I don' laugh," Alder said unsmiling. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

Both Merlin and Gwaine sensed that he was done talking for a while, so they stood and went back to the others. Their conversation finished, they silently sat on the beds or leaned against the walls.

"How is he?" Arthur murmured.

"Alder?" Merlin shook his head. "I don't know. He wouldn't let me see to his bruises."

"Bruises?" Leon asked. He also spoke quietly.

"From the guards." Merlin made a face at the memory. "Arthur, I think he's telling the truth."

"About what?"

"That he can't use magic."

"How can you be sure?"

"Renault told him that if he tried to use magic, there was a spell in the chains that would kill him." He did not say that the warning was directed at both of them. He also did not mention that there was a special punishment in store for him if he tried any magic.

The conversation dropped as silence wrapped itself around them like a woollen blanket. Occasionally, someone would say something. Someone else might answer, but the exchange would not last. Everyone was preoccupied with memories of what had happened, trying to make sense of what Renault had done. Their very minds were invaded. Every secret exposed, every sorrow uncovered, every crevice defiled.

Merlin used the time to test the chain, one last time. He let his magic drip down until it covered the skin under the shackles. Gently, he let his hold go a little bit at a time. The shackles suddenly tightened. He pressed a hand to his mouth rather than let the pain make itself known to everyone in the room.

_The next time you try that_, he flinched as Renault's voice spoke in his mind, _I will cut off_ Arthur's _feet_. The chain pressed even tighter before letting go. _All of the power I have taken before now is devoted to chaining you down. And I can spare it. _Do. Not. Test. Me.AGAIN_. Besides, what the bastard will give me is far greater than anything even you possess. _Merlin still did not make a sound, suffering the pain in silence. But he knew the monster was entirely serious. He did not dare use magic now. He could live with his own maiming, but there was no way in the world that Merlin could live with the knowledge that Arthur would be crippled because of him.

But he was already crippled. For the first time in years, he was afraid to use his magic. He was afraid to be who he was. Magic might not be evil, as he had said so many years ago, but he had not used it entirely for good. He was just as much a monster as Renault.

But Renault, he had violated Merlin's mind, poisoned his memories with his putrid imprint. He knew things about Merlin that no one, not even Arthur or Gaius, knew.

Vaguely, Merlin thought of his destiny, that Arthur would one day unite Albion in a golden age of prosperity. It was a prophecy. And, if he knew anything about prophecies, they came true. Even when he did everything in his power to stop them from being realised, they did so anyway.

Camelot was prosperous now, but still far from that utopian age of the prophecy. Which meant, that age was yet to come. They would somehow get out of this terrible place.

That knowledge lit a small spark of hope in Merlin's soul. It was a candle in the wind– flickering in the shadow Renault cast on his soul, but still alive.

The hours passed. The shadows moved across the room. Alder eventually joined them, taking the bunk he had before. On occasion, they would pass the water around and drink. In due course, they discovered what the empty bucket was–a chamber pot. "Don't put it there," Leon said to Elyan when he tried to put it back under the bed. "It stinks."

"They usually do," Merlin observed. "Here." He took the bucket and set it down under the window, as far away from their noses as he could put it.

"You know quite a bit about these things," Gwaine said. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"I've been in the dungeons once or twice," Merlin played along, not looking once at Arthur. "The stocks, too, come to think of it."

"Whatever could you have done to wind up in there?" Arthur rolled his eyes. The other knights fought to keep straight faces. "Nicked a dumpling from Audrey?"

"Oh no, nothing so serious as that; just–"

"Just threw a punch at the prince?" Arthur offered.

"Just threw a punch at an ass that had the power to throw me in the dungeon for a night," Merlin maintained. "And then in the stocks for good measure."

"You called him an ass?" Leon asked. "I never heard that part of the story."

"And you'll do everything in your power to forget you ever heard it." Arthur glared at them. "All of you."

"Yes, sire," they chorused amid partially-stifled chuckles. Even Alder cracked a grin.

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**Check on 27 September for Chapter Nine.**

**Thanks to everyone who decided to take those few seconds to tell me what they think! Now, can everyone else review?**


	9. Dreams

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

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**Chapter Nine: Dreams**

Merlin's dreams that night were not pleasant. Two hazy figures stood on either side of the window, but he could not get a clear look at them because of the lights. Eight faint lights in total, all radiating different colours, were in the room. They were spaced apart, some floating near the ceiling, some on his eye level. One was close to his eyes, an azure glow tinged with gold. Another was dark red, also streaked gold. The others were plain dark red, deep brown, purple, orange, bright green, and grey. The two closest to him –the grey and green ones– floated quite close together. A dark mass grew between them, however. As he looked at it, seeking to understand it, a sense of nausea swept over him. That mass was a sickness, but where or what is was he could not say.

When he opened his eyes, the lights vanished. The other six men in the room lay on the bunks. Arthur and the knights awakened when the ropes and gags beneath the beds unexpectedly sprang to life. In the now-familiar routine, all of them were secured to the bunks and silenced. Alder, who had not yet woken, only stirred in his sleep. He started to fight against the bonds, but did not completely wake up. The door opened to admit Renault.

"Peace and quiet! How lovely." His shark-like grin caused Merlin's gut to heave. He dropped off his cargo –one bucket– and looked around the room. "Now, where have you put them?" His eyes lighted on the buckets at the far end of the room, and the bag sitting next to them. His pupils glowed as he incanted, "_Cuman_." The objects flew over the prisoners' heads. Unfortunately, the piss bucket spilled some of its contents on them as it sailed by. Renault set it aside and refilled the bag with bread and the other bucket with water.

The ropes and gag were quite unnecessary to keep Merlin immobile and mute. Renault's very presence in the room was enough to keep him from moving or speaking. The terror that enveloped him was absolute. He could think of nothing else. His lungs screamed for air, but his mind paid no heed to their demands.

"I suppose this whole affair is a bit grandiose, isn't it?" The embers in Renault's eyes flared, and the ropes and gags fell away. Merlin was dimly aware of them slithering out the door and not back under the beds. He and the others were too busy hacking and gulping down much-needed air they had not realised they needed.

Before Renault left, he looked back at his captives. "You will not be here for much longer, I can assure you of that." He glanced at Alder, and his smirk grew into a sneer. "Not long at all." He swept out and closed the door.

Merlin looked at the boy. What had made that monster so pleased? Alder stopped thrashing around, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"It's alright. He's gone," Merlin reassured him as he sat up slowly.

"The ropes," Alder glanced around, expecting them to spring out and tie him up. It must have been a trick of the light, how the irises of his eyes looked darker green.

"Gone out the door." They passed around the water. When Merlin handed the bowl to Alder, he noticed that the boy's hand trembled as he drew a sip of water.

"We have to get out of here." The words came from Arthur in a rough whisper. "We'll die if we stay."

"And how d'yeh think yeh'll get out?" Alder looked at him dully. "The door's certainly locked in one way or another. The walls are thick stone. The window's barred. How?"

"I don't know," Arthur admitted. "But I won't accept that there's absolutely no way out."

"Fine," Alder grumbled.

Merlin shifted and winced as the shackles around his legs bit into his flesh. He glanced down at them. The skin under the metal was rubbed raw. In all that had passed in the last three days, he had not noticed the infection spreading. The others' skin was only chafed under the shackles, not as raw and bleeding as his.

Arthur abruptly stood and shuffled to the door. He knocked on the edges, seeking a weak point. "Useless," Alder insisted. "He'd've thought of that." The king ignored him, continuing his slow examination of the door. Merlin and the others took the initiative and began their own meticulous searches. Even Alder pitched in, muttering about stubborn nobles who could not take 'no' for an answer as he checked the walls near the window.

No one knew how long they had been at it. Eventually Merlin, who had been crawling under the beds to inspect where the floor and wall met, made his way to the window. Alder was there, kneeling gingerly as he moved the rushes aside to check the floor there. Scowling, he blinked and rubbed his eyes.

"Damn straw," he hissed.

"Find anything?" Merlin asked absently, most of his attention focused on the wall.

"Plenty of straw. Maybe we could get out by burnin' the place down." Merlin gave the boy his full attention, searching his face to see if he was serious. "Kidding," Alder deadpanned.

"Right." He was not so sure, but decided not to press it. Elyan came over to the window and looked out. He took hold of the bars, as if he meant to rip them out of the stone. He wrenched them, but they refused to budge. He tried twisting them and his face lit up.

"Sire," he called softly. The king did not come running, but he arrived quickly. "The bars move." He gripped one of them and turned. It moved in the groove of the stone. "If we keep twisting and turning it, we could loosen it enough to yank it out."

"If we do that to all of the bars, would we fit out the window?"

Percival, the largest of the men imprisoned, looked at the window. "It'll be tight, but we could."

"Then let's get to work," Gwaine said, taking hold of the furthest bar. He and Elyan began to twist the metal.

"What about the shackles?" Leon asked. "Even if we do escape, we won't be able to move quickly."

"We can strike them off when we're far enough away," Merlin suggested. He did not bring up the fact that doing so could trigger Renault's spell on his shackles and forcibly remove Arthur's feet. He would work out how to get around that problem later.

"So, yeh found yer way out," Alder said.

"It's your way out as well," Arthur reminded him.

Alder planted his left hand on the bed and began to lever himself up. "I wouldn–" His hand slipped and he fell back to his knees. He choked back a pained cry.

Arthur held a hand to him. "You alright?"

Alder scowled at the hand offered to him. It was no trick of the light. His irises –once emerald– were now criss-crossed with tendrils of silver and black. "Am I alright?" He took shuddering breaths and gasps as he spoke. "I been kidnapped, chained to a wall, beaten, a monster exposed everythin' about me for his _pleasure_, and now we're waitin' here till he gets 'round to killing the lot of us. So, no, I am not alright!" He got up, stumbled back toward the door, and pulled himself on to the bed, seemingly exhausted by moving the fifteen or so feet from window to door. Arthur started after him, but Merlin put a hand on his arm.

"Let him be."

"Merlin…" There was a warning in Arthur's voice, but the manservant paid it no mind.

"Arthur, he's hurting. Look, I'll talk to him." The king reluctantly agreed and let him pass. He approached carefully, not sure if Alder would lash out in anger again.

"Alder?" Even in the dim light, he could see the streaks in the boy's eyes.

"Sorry I yelled," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about it." He scooped some water from the bucket and gave the bowl to the boy. Alder reached for it, dragging his left arm as he moved. He drank gratefully and appeared to notice his arm for the first time. Instead of moving on its own, he was forced to pick the arm up with his right and bodily move it back. "How long has it been like that?" Merlin asked.

"Started to lose feelin' in it last night," Alder admitted. "I did not want to be more of a bother than I have already been."

"You haven't been a bother," Percival, usually silent and distant, said as he came to sit on Alder's other side.

"I am the reason that all of you are here. If I had not–" He suddenly began to cough and hack as if he was drowning. Merlin braced him as he struggled. When he could speak again, he said, "Some archer I'll be if I can't e'en hold a bow."

Merlin frowned. "What?"

"What 'what'?" Alder asked, just as confused as him. "I can't move my left arm, I told yeh that."

"But you were saying that you were the reason we're here."

"No, I didn't." As he said this, Alder's face fell. "It's happenin' again."

"The blackouts?"

The boy nodded miserably. "But it is my fault yeh're here. If I hadn' dropped my bag, yeh wouldn' have taken so much time talkin'. Yeh'd've heard them comin'. Yeh'd've had a chance to fight back."

"It wouldn't have made a difference," Merlin said. "Renault attacked us from a distance, with magic. There was nothing any of us could have done." Alder looked directly at him, hearing the unspoken acknowledgment: Merlin, as powerful as he was, could not have prevented their capture. Even he could be taken by surprise and then held under control by the massive amount of power Renault had at his command. "But we can do something about it now," he reassured the boy. "We can escape."

"And what can yeh do for my arm? What can yeh do 'bout what Renault did?" Merlin had no answer. "Thought as much," Alder said, but there was no complaint in his voice. No accusation that, as a physician, Merlin should have been able to do something.

Merlin turned away, not wanting the boy to see the pain and helplessness he felt. There truly was nothing he could do. His magic was bound, and the only treatment he could give was what he could contrive with cloth and water. And if he could not even heal Alder's arm, then he was unquestionably powerless against Renault's assault against them.

Percival heard his unexpressed surrender. "Maybe we can't do anything about your arm." He put a hand the size of a ham on Alder's shoulder. "But we are here for you."

Alder slumped and bowed his head. "But he–" His voice was thick.

"He hurt you. He hurt all of us. But we are here with you. We have a chance to get out of here. You are not alone." Alder bowed his head even further, a tear or two dripping from his face. Merlin felt close to tears himself. So that was the secret. Renault had made all of them feel alone and hopeless. But they were not. He had hurt them, but he could not completely destroy them or their hope. He had not won.

Weak and exhausted, Alder dropped off to sleep, but Percival and Merlin continued to sit with him. Arthur joined them after he had done a shift on turning the bars. "How is he?" he asked as he sat down heavily. Percival stood up to take his turn, leaving the two of them to talk.

"Sick," Merlin said. "And I don't know what it is." The despondency in his tone must have convinced Arthur that it was no use asking more questions about it. "But it goes deeper."

"What do you mean?"

"He feels–" he looked for the right word. "–violated." He saw the flash of pain on Arthur's face. "I know, we all do. But look at us. Look at them." He indicated the knights. They quietly swapped quips and jokes as they worked. "They –we– have each other. We have something to give us hope. He's alone."

"He's a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot" Arthur said as if he were reminding himself.

Something in Merlin snapped. "So what?!" Arthur looked up, surprised that Merlin spoke so sharply. Some corner of Merlin's mind also listened in astonishment at the anger in his own voice. Alder stirred at the sound. "Is he any less of a man than you because he practises magic? Does he deserve what Renault did to him?"

The king looked into the manservant's smouldering eyes. "No one deserves that."

"Not even an 'enemy of Camelot'?" He drove the argument home.

"Not even," Arthur repeated.

Alder suddenly began choking. "Don'–make me–laugh," he struggled to say. "It hurts." Even though he was in pain, a tight smile played on his blanched face.

"Then don't laugh," Merlin admonished him, but only half-heartedly. "What's so funny?"

"That havin' the smallest talent at magic makes yeh an all-powerful sorcerer." The boy shook his head tiredly. "That, if you have magic, you are automatically bent on destroying Camelot without question," he managed to say before falling asleep once more.

"He has an odd sense of humour," Gwaine declared.

"But he speaks the truth," Arthur responded.

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	10. Escape

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

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**Chapter Ten: Escape**

That night, Merlin once again dreamed of the lights. They were brighter, lighting up the room. The light nearest to his eyes had become as blue as the sky, lanced with golden rays. The lamp that was across from his bunk blossomed into a crimson flame with sparkles of gold throughout. The other red light was just as fiery scarlet, but had no gold highlights. The brown had become a warm, cheerful glow. The deep purple light seemed to give off a quiet strength. The orange, though wild and crazy, burned with a constant, loyal flame.

But two of the lights remained dim–the grey and green ones. The blackness between them had grown, and looking on it made Merlin feel violently sick. Weariness pressed down on him and the rest of the room fell into shadow. He knew he was dying.

He looked away and the light returned to his eyes. He could see those two figures standing on either side of the window. One, on the left, was little more than an emaciated skeleton. Eyes that blazed with wrath were framed by the figure's uncut black hair. Merlin recognised this man: it was the man from the mirror, the man he was becoming more like with every passing day. But on the right, he thought he saw Alder standing, ready to face the challenges of the day, ready to believe the best in everyone around him. But it could not be the boy. He was too tall, his hair too dark, his eyes too blue. It was not him. It was…

He snapped awake, breathing hard and shaking. Daylight streamed in through the window. No one stood next to it. _It was just a dream_, he told himself as he fought to regain control. _Just a dream_.

Then he remembered: the bars in the window were no longer secure in the stone. The night before, the knights toiled until they could not only twist all of the bars, but move them a few inches back and forth. Soon, the bars would be free of the stone that held them in place. They stopped work long after the sun had set and were now grabbing a few precious hours of sleep.

Across from him, Arthur watched the door. The knights soon awoke, but no one dared to speak. Every man in the room held his breath, waiting for Renault to arrive. When he did, they would have to deceive him. They could not afford to show how highly strung they were, lest he suspect that something was up.

Merlin took one last scrutinising look at the bars before the door opened. Renault entered to do his usual chores. He hesitated, and Merlin's heart leapt into his throat. But he continued without a glance at his prisoners.

Before he left, Renault peered at the still-unconscious Alder. Overnight, his skin turned ashen and his breathing shallow. "Tonight is the night," the monster announced gleefully. "At dawn tomorrow, I will call him forth!" He looked at the other six men. "You all may be happy to learn that your troubles will be over by nightfall tomorrow. Pity that you have to die, but I need your gifts. And, frankly, you wouldn't fare well in the new order I'm destined to create." With that, he shut the door, leaving them to their own devices once again.

No one dared move until it was quite obvious that he was gone. "We have to leave tonight," Arthur announced quietly. "As soon as the sun sets." Elyan and Leon crept over to the window to continue their work.

Merlin went to Alder and gently shook his arm, but the boy did not wake. "He's freezing," he said to no one in particular.

"Here." Arthur passed him some of their thin blankets. Together they wrapped Alder up. Merlin noted in dismay that it was only Alder's left arm that was cold. The arm he had lost feeling in yesterday.

Merlin pulled him off to the side. "Arthur, he's getting worse." There was something else, something he did not want to voice but knew that he had to. Once more, he thought of the image he had seen in the dark mirror, the man to the left of the window. "If we mean to leave tonight, and he's not better–"

"We can't leave him here." There was a note of finality in Arthur's voice. "I won't leave anyone in the hands of Renault."

Merlin nodded. He was glad to leave that decision to the king. He could not trust himself to make the right choice.

Alder suddenly began talking. He was awake, staring at a nondescript corner in the wall. "Brother," he said in that other voice that sounded so old and pained. "You wished for your head to be buried here, in Caer-Lundein, that you may guard the land against invasion for all time." Arthur and Merlin looked at one another, each silently asking the other what the boy was talking about. "But I am lost without you, Bran. I am fragmented and incomplete. I–" He erupted into a storm of sobbing coughs that wracked his thin frame.

Merlin overcame his confusion and went to Alder. "Here, drink some water." He supported his head and helped him drink. The ash and shadow all but drowned out the emerald in the boy's eyes. "Alder, you're hurt. I can do what I can to help your bruises if they pain you."

He shook his head jerkily. "I am fine," he said, pronouncing every word carefully. "Just let it go, would yeh? Yeh should be seein' to yerself, bein' up in the middle of the night."

Merlin frowned. Why would he say that? "We were all up working last night." His hands were raw from his turns at loosening the bars.

"It's still night." Alder looked toward the window and the labouring knights. "How can they see to work?"

Now Merlin was worried. "Alder, it's morning. The sun rose a while ago."

"Don' be daft," he retorted. "It's dark out. I can' e'en see yer face." As he said this, what little blood was left in Alder's face drained away. A goldfinch's chirruping song drifted in from outside, the song of a bird that would _never_ be heard at night. The disbelief fled from the boy as quickly as it had come. "Then yeh got no choice. Yeh have t–"

"We're taking you with us," Arthur interrupted.

"In case yeh haven' noticed, I'm sick. Now I'm blind." Alder looked in the general direction of Arthur's voice. "I will only slow you down, and then no one will escape." He sounded like an old man, world-weary and resigned to his fate.

"You won't slow us down," Percival knelt down beside Alder. "We'll carry you if need be."

"We're not leaving you behind," Gwaine added.

"Yeh may have no choice in the matter," the boy managed to answer before slipping back into unconsciousness.

There was nothing left to do but tug and twist the bars. Merlin kept watch over Alder. The boy slept fitfully, muttering about making saddles, shields, and shoes. Once or twice, the manservant could have sworn he heard him say –of all things– that he was going to hang a mouse for thievery. Merlin did not know what to make of his words, but as he sat beside Alder, he thought about the two figures he had dreamt about. The one he thought was Alder. It was not him, but someone like him. If only he could remember…

He did remember. How could he have forgotten? The second figure was Merlin himself, a much younger self. It was the boy who strolled into Camelot over seven years ago, full of innocence and hope. That hope was not entirely shattered, at least not all at once. Every day, a small piece of it broke away, but that only made what was left burn brighter.

That boy had grown up. He had changed, and not entirely for the better. But as much as Merlin was no longer that boy, he was not yet the utterly ruthless man either.

Slowly, the stone holding the bars in place gave way to dust and shards of rock. One by one, the knights pulled the bars free. As the sun sank below the distant western horizon, the last gave way.

Merlin's heart pounded. If they were caught, they would not get another chance again. They cautiously moved a bunk over to the window. Percival climbed up and went out first. All of them had lost some weight while being imprisoned, but it was still a tight squeeze. Every time his shackles rattled Merlin glanced at the door, half-expecting Renault to burst in. Percival motioned for the next person to get up. Gwaine went next, followed by Elyan.

"Now Alder," Gwaine whispered down to the remaining captives. Leon gently lifted the boy up to the top bunk of their improvised ladder. Alder stirred, his sightless eyes fluttering open.

Even if he could not see, he knew what they were doing. "Told yeh," he struggled to speak. "No chance. Leave–" Those few words left him gasping for breath.

"Fortunately, you're in no position to argue," Gwaine said as he reached through the window and hauled him out. Arthur, Merlin and Leon relayed the water bucket, the bread bag, and the blankets out the window. Leon clawed his way up the bunk. He almost got stuck in the casement of the window, but managed to squirm through.

"You next," Arthur said. Merlin was about to argue, then thought better of it. There was no time. He went up and crawled out the window. The others stood, or in Alder's case, sat a few yards inside the forest. The cover was so thick that Merlin could not see the wall of the castle in the advancing gloom.

Percival hoisted Alder's limp body over his shoulder while everyone else took up their stolen cargo. The chains would have to wait until they got far enough away. They travelled in a single file line, moving as quickly as possible. At the moment, the need for distance took precedence over the need for silence. Merlin's nerves jangled at every sound. The pain caused by the shackles was forgotten completely. All that mattered was getting away.

Even if the pain was forgotten, the shackles could not be ignored. More than once, someone's chain was caught on a rock or root, causing that someone to pitch head over heels to the ground. A short-gaited lope was the only way to run.

Arthur signalled a halt a while later. Percival propped Alder against a tree. He shivered and drew breath in shudders and gasps. Merlin knew it was useless to treat his injuries in the dark, but it tore at him to be so helpless.

They set about getting the chains off. Leon found a sturdy branch to use as a club. "Who's first?"

"Alder," Arthur said. "Percival, Merlin, help me with him." The tall knight sat astride a log, holding the boy upright in front of him. The king and the manservant held his legs so that the chain was taut across the log. "Now, Leon." Leon brought the club down squarely on the chain near Alder's right ankle; it popped cleanly off. While Arthur held the broken chain down tight, the knight struck the other side and the boy was free of the chain. The actual shackles would have to stay on until they could get more delicate equipment.

One by one, they broke their bonds off. "You're last, Merlin," Arthur said.

Merlin wondered vaguely if he could stall, but what choice did he have? They had to keep moving, and moving quickly. His only hope was that he could stop Renault's spell from severing Arthur's feet. Concern for his own safety was minor; Arthur was all that mattered.

Carefully, he straddled the log and held as still as he could. He ducked his head and mentally prepared himself, ready to break the invisible chain and –with any luck– be conscious in time to stop any more unpleasant spells. Leon swung the club and smashed one side of the physical chain.

Merlin let the inner candle that was his magic explode outwards in an inferno of power. He hung on to consciousness by sheer force of will. He was distantly aware of the fact that the bond on his magic was broken. Most of his concentration was on guarding the group, particularly Arthur, from attack.

He felt someone yank him to his feet. "What the hell are you waiting for?" Arthur hissed in his ear. "You're free. Let's go!"

Leon must have finished getting the chain off without him noticing. Discreetly, he looked to his feet with magic. The bond was gone. He could use magic once more.

Merlin found himself taking charge of the bread bag. Everyone carried something, even Arthur. The king took the water bucket, Percival and Leon supported Alder between the two of them, Elyan the blankets, Gwaine the broken chains. They could come in handy, and no one wanted to leave more evidence behind than could be avoided.

By the stars they could see through the tree cover, they knew that they headed more or less to the west. The darkness and silence set everyone on edge. All eyes were trained on the forest before them, and all ears were listening for any sound of pursuers. As time passed, the trees grew closer together until they could hardly distinguish the path. The path twisted and turned until they were not entirely sure that they were still going west, only that they were going away from Renault. Merlin felt short of breath. Amazing what being cooped up in a little room for a few days could do to one's endurance.

They came to the edge of a small clearing. The woods were unnervingly silent, so silent that a nearby stream rolled and roared like a much-larger river. "We'll rest here," Arthur called quietly.

They dropped their things, grateful for a respite. Merlin went to Alder, who had not moved since Leon and Percival laid him down near a tall tree. He could not see how the boy looked, but he sounded awful. Even the gentlest touch elicited a painful gasp from him. All Merlin could think to do was cover him with a blanket and sit beside him. Percival saw what he was up to and whispered, "I'll take watch in a bit."

"Da?" The voice was so quiet, Merlin could not be sure that he was not imagining things. "Da, what're yeh doin' here?" Alder asked plaintively. Merlin searched his face, hoping for some sign of wakefulness, but his eyes remained closed. Merlin knew he was dying.

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**Could everyone take two seconds to write a review? Please? I really want to know what you think of my story.**

**Check back on 3 October for Chapter 11.**


	11. Sacrifice

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

**Replies to reviews:** Lesley- You're not daft. I haven't been completely transparent with Alder's history, but I have written some clues. If you'd like to try your hand at solving the mystery, (and this goes for everyone): reread the story. Look specifically at Merlin's dreams about the lights. That's all of a hint I'm going to give, but I think it's enough!

**Today just so happens to be my birthday. And you know what? The best birthday present I could get would be for all of you to tell me what you think of this chapter. Flame it, love it, cry over it–just write something!**

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**Chapter Eleven: Sacrifice**

"Da?" Alder asked again.

Out of options, Merlin did the only thing he could think of: he answered. "I'm here," he said quietly "I came to get you out."

"Not without t' others," Alder said. In spite of his condition, the determination in his voice was genuine.

"No, we won't leave without them."

"Good." He drifted off momentarily.

"What's that?" Percival asked.

"He's delirious," Merlin explained.

"Why did yeh not come sooner?" Merlin hesitated. He rifled through memories of the past few days, looking for some detail Alder had mentioned of his father, anything. "S' alright," Alder sighed before he could come up with an answer. "Yeh're busy. I know. Not too busy to go for a tumble in the woods with a peasant girl, but too busy to come back to see the son that came of that."

"I didn't know," was all Merlin could think to say.

"Yeh gave her a ring, did yeh remember? 'T was the apple of her eye. Gave it to me when I come lookin' for yeh. Remember that?" In the dark, Alder's voice turned from bitter.

Merlin remembered. Alder's father had ordered him to get out. Percival turned to Merlin. It was still too dark to see his expression, but he guessed it was something along the lines of 'what the hell is he talking about?'

"Stonesbury cast me out 'cos of what I was doin' when I blacked out. They'd've killed me if they'd got the chance."

"That doesn't matter," Merlin said. "You're here now, not in Stonesbury. They can't hurt you."

"Is 'here' better? Is life with yeh any better? I just show up outta the blue one day sayin' yeh're my da. Wherever I go, everyone looks at me like I'm a freak. Even yeh. I try my best to please yeh. I learn fletchin' and archery as fast yeh can teach me, but it don' matter." Alder's voice was rising to a dangerously loud level. "To yeh, I'm not yer son. Don' deny it," he snapped when Merlin started to speak. "I heard yeh talkin' with Matthew. Yeh don' want a bastard livin' under yer roof!"

"Alder, Alder," Merlin pleaded. "I'm sorry. That's all I can say. I'm sorry." The boy was silent, so he kept talking. "I can't take back what I said, but I can say that I'm sorry."

"Sorry don' matter," he reproached in a low tone. "Yeh and yers cast me out, Ma and hers cast me out. And if I got no family, then I'm nobody. Right now, all I have are them with me." He was falling back into unconsciousness. "Merlin, Percival, Gwaine, all of them. They care more than _you_ ever did."

Merlin sat back, stunned by the revelation. Percival put a hand on his shoulder. "Get some rest," he said quietly. "I'll wake you if anything happens," he added when Merlin began to protest.

"Plenty will happen," a terrifyingly familiar voice rang out. "_Forbærne firgenholt. __Astyrian na_." All around them, fires suddenly sprang to life, illuminating the clearing in an odd orange glow. A spell took hold of the seven men, rendering them motionless. In a haze, Merlin suddenly recognised the clearing. It was where they had set up camp four days ago. The deep fire pit in the centre still held partially burnt branches.

Two horses stood in the trees, mounted by Renault and Rowena. The latter remained passive, coolly observing them. The former on the other hand sneered with a manic shark's grin, his eyes gleaming with revolting elation.

"Why the long faces?" Renault dismounted and walked among them. "Excuse me, good horses." He addressed the horses as if they cared about his choice of words. He carried a length of thick chain over his shoulder like it was nothing, though it must have been extremely heavy. He began to lay down at their feet. "You left in such a hurry. And you didn't even say goodbye." He pouted, then giggled. "We'll just have to take you back and teach you proper manners, won't we?" He stopped next to Percival and Merlin, looking down at Alder. "You decided to drag him along? Even though you know it could cost everyone's chance of escape? Oh, no no no," he interrupted himself. "You had no chance, whether you took him along or not. Rowena, would you start back with the bastard here? I fear he won't survive much longer."

"Yes, sir," the sorceress replied crisply. Her eyes glowed and Alder's limp body was picked up by some invisible force. His skin shone with a sickly glow in the light of the torches. He drifted up the hill and settled on the horse in front of Rowena. She held him upright with one arm and used the other to guide the horse away. Merlin tried with everything in him to stop her but he remained immobile. His magic was just as frozen as the rest of him.

"Now, the rest of you will come behind me. And listen carefully." The blithe tone Renault had been using vanished. "If you try to slow us down or break free, I will kill the bastard." A sphere of fiery light appeared in his hand. "This spell links to Rowena. One word from me and she will dump him from the horse. In his state of health, he would not survive the fall. Now follow." His eyes glowed and the spell holding the men of Camelot was released, only for the chain near their feet to clamp onto the shackles still around their ankles. Not only were they once again bound, but they were bound together. He took hold of one end of each of this chain, mounted the remaining horse and started back.

There was nothing to do but to follow Renault back to the castle. Merlin walked in a daze. They had been so close to escaping, even within the borders of Camelot, only to be recaptured by this horrible monster. He half-listened to Renault's babbling as he led the line of knights, king, and manservant back to his castle. "It was quite amusing, watching your attempt to escape. Oh, yes, I knew all along. I set up most of the circumstances. Who made sure the room you were put in had a window large enough to crawl out of?" He waited, as if he truly wanted to know. "Who weakened the stone so that it was possible to remove the bars simply by twisting them?" _Who did not make good on his threat to sever your king's feet_ _if you broke the chains, _he hissed in Merlin's mind, _even though he knew exactly where you were every second after you left the cell?_

"Actually, I was hoping you would break out sooner. I put a bottle of acid under one of the bunks. In a matter of minutes, it would have eaten away at the bars so that you could simply pull them loose. It would have been far more amusing to recapture you within sight of the walls of Camelot, but I suppose you can't have everything."

Renault chattered until they reached the castle. The pre-dawn light illuminated the walls in a cold, pearly light. Five indistinguishable lumps stood on the top of the wall over the gate, impaled on spears. Merlin could not make them out entirely, but he could see that one form was shaped like a head. He heard the flies buzzing around the shapes.

"Ah, you've noticed the example," Renault stated as he led them under the portcullis. "Yes, that was the guard who assaulted the bastard. He's a bit scattered now," he said nonchalantly. Merlin felt like he was going to be sick, as if the stench of the dismembered three-day-old corpse had floated by on the breeze.

Renault dismounted, leaving the horse in the courtyard. "We haven't much time," he muttered, taking the chain and entering the castle's great hall. "We'll have to call him before the bastard goes and spoils it all by dying." No one dared to stop or slow down for fear of Alder's life, wherever he was.

The hall was rather simple. The only adornment was a large stone altar, right in the middle. A stone slab supported by two pillars, it gleamed in the light of the torches that flickered from the walls. "Rowena!" he called. "It's time." He directed them to a place on the back wall, some ten feet from the altar. When he dropped the chain, they immediately sank into the stone floor. The floor re-solidified with the chain firmly welded into the rock.

Renault ducked into an antechamber, only to reappear a second later carrying one end of a litter. Rowena carried the other end. Merlin gasped. Under a black shroud lay Alder. The dark colour of the shroud made him appear so pale that for a heart-stopping moment Merlin thought him to be dead. Only the feeble movement of his chest rising and falling belied this thought. The two sorcerers set the litter down on the altar and removed the poles. Rowena took them and exited out of the side door.

The madman now drew back the shroud. Alder was completely bare, and there was no hiding the injuries he had previous concealed. Ugly contusions on his limbs and body were now turning yellow. A purple fist-sized welt on his torso spoke of cracked, possibly broken, ribs. Worst of all, the distinctive wounds of a heavy mace raged all along his side. Merlin's own mace scars on his shoulder and chest stung at the sight of them.

Renault began chanting. "_Gód of __scinncræft__ ac ongytenes, __þé__ eart_ _betræppan__ in_ _þisne__ mennisc læfel._"He pulled cords from somewhere and tied Alder down to the altar. He yanked the cloth bindings from the boy's hands. "_Ic bebéode_ _þé, sundrian fram þín læfel!_" Then with a savage swipe, he reopened the cut in his right palm. Alder, who had until then been completely silent, cried out. It was no mere yelp of suppressed misery. His control had long since shattered. As the blood –startlingly scarlet against his pale flesh– welled up and dripped onto the altar, Alder's voice rose in an anguished cry. Gradually, he dropped back to shuddering that nearly broke Merlin's heart. Renault continued chanting, untroubled by the hiccoughing sobs coming from the boy on the altar before him.

"_Beón clæne sundrian!_" Slowly and enjoying every second, Renault slid the knife across the gash in his left hand. Instead of more blood, a revolting gush of grey and black liquid flowed from the wound and Alder's voice lifted up again. Much worse than before, the sound grew louder and more horrifying. It seemed to Merlin that there were two voices. One was like the scream before, but much more heartrending. The other was like the roar of a tortured animal. Together they melded and combined into one agonized cry of ultimate suffering, as if Renault was tearing Alder limb from limb.

Tears of hopeless fury and anguish flowed unnoticed down Merlin's face. He wanted it all to stop. Just stop.

Renault drew a blade the length of his forearm. His lips were still moving, though the sound of the mantra was drowned out. A bloodcurdling light of ecstasy illumed his eyes. He took the knife in both hands, raised his arms overhead, and plunged the blade into the centre of Alder's thin chest.

Merlin heard several voices cry out "No!" His may have been among them.

All sound in the hall suddenly ceased. The knife was buried in Alder's ribs up to the hilt. His eyes, which had been squeezed shut in pain, flew open. His entire body slumped and his head dropped to the side, facing the group at the back wall. The grey and black fled from his wide eyes. For a second, the green orbs locked with Merlin's. Then the light in them flickered and faded.

Suddenly, Renault struck up the chant once more. "_Se mennisc ís lífléas. Árísan nú! Beón under mín ánweald!_" As his voice rose into a crescendo, Alder's body burst into flame. The temperature was so intense that Merlin and the others felt the heat wash over them as if from an open oven. Then the blaze abruptly faltered and died.

There was nothing left on the altar, save for a blackened blade with its tip driven into the stone.

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**Well then. What do you think? Please, hold nothing back!**

**Check on 6 October for Chapter 12.**


	12. Rescue

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.

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**Chapter Twelve:** **Rescue**

Renault fell to his knees, chanting once more, his arms stretched out toward the empty altar. "_Sécan_ _mec, sécan þín hláford, beón under mín ánweald!_" His voice grew louder and more frantic. He glanced around eagerly, searching for something that only he could see. "Where is he? Where–" he stammered in a feverish howl.

The door on the opposite side of the room burst open and every torch was suddenly extinguished. The only light remaining was that of a sun scarcely clear of the horizon. In the doorway stood a cloaked and hooded figure. The cowl of the cloak was deep, hiding the stranger's face in shadow.

Renault stood up shakily. "You came. It–it worked." He drew closer. "For a moment, I thought the ceremony–" He stopped, peering into the shadows of the cowl. Without warning he backed away from the advancing figure. "No!" He sounded terrified. "It can't be!"

"And yet, it is." The voice came from the hooded stranger, a man's voice as cold and uncompromising as stone.

"But I–" Renault gestured wildly. "I performed–"

"You have defiled the rites and rituals of the Old Religion," the stranger interrupted, never stopping his deliberate stride toward the monster. "You misused and perverted those ceremonies until they served your purposes. But even with all your power, you could not enslave me."

Renault recovered his arrogance. "I was chosen by the gods to restore magic to the land!"

"Were you chosen?" the stranger asked in a disdainful whisper. Renault's swagger evaporated. He backed up into the altar, leaving himself nowhere to run. "Or was it a lie you used to coerce the weak into your service? You told that lie so often that you soon believed it yourself." An arm and hand covered by an armguard of some sort shot out from the cloak and took Renault by the throat. The stranger wrenched the monster up to his eyelevel. "The gods never favoured you. Your acts have been judged." He clenched his fist and threw Renault to the floor, who landed with a sickening crunch.

The chain restraining Merlin and the others fell off, even the shackles. Dust and loose stone fell from the ceiling as the entire castle began to shake. "Quickly now." The stranger motioned for them to follow him out the door. "The fortress will soon collapse." Numbly they followed. As they went out the door, Merlin looked back. Renault's body lay crumpled in front of the altar, his head at an angle. His neck was broken.

The seven of them travelled hurriedly down a narrow passageway. Everyone but the stranger stumbled and reeled as the floor shuddered. They came to a waterway flowing through a tunnel and out into the forest. A longboat waited for them. "What about the horses?" Arthur asked in a faraway voice.

"Rhiannon will guide them to safety," the stranger told him. "She owes me a favour." They got into the boat, lurching as the foundations of the castle quaked. The stranger put a hand in the water. "Father Llyr, guide us to Rhiannon," he prayed. The boat moved forward swiftly. Within seconds they passed through the tunnel. The dawn illuminated the land in a beautiful glow.

The castle was falling apart in earnest now. Towers crumbled and tumbled into the courtyard. A herd of horses led by one large snow-white horse thundered out the gate and into the forest. Behind them, the entire curtain wall quivered and disintegrated. Clouds of dust were thrown up into the air, obscuring the view. No one cared. They only wanted out of that place.

The boat continued on without any assistance from its passengers, always following the horses that ran on a path not far from the river. No one spoke; everyone was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. The stranger sat in the prow of the boat, straight as an arrow, the cowl of his cloak always concealing his face. Finally, the boat slowed to a halt beside a gentle slope of the bank. They clambered out and went to the horses waiting in a large secluded clearing.

The stranger walked up to the white horse, a mare larger than any of the others. "Thank you, my beloved Rhiannon," he said, putting a hand on her head. She tossed her head and whickered. "Yes, you and I are no longer husband and wife. But where will you go?" She looked at him with profound brown eyes, as if to say, _Why would I tell you_? Then she shook her head and cantered away.

The stranger raised a hand in farewell before turning back to the other six. "Good sirs, you are weary and mournful. Here in this clearing you will be protected until dawn tomorrow. Then you will have the strength to journey back to your home."

The horses went to their riders and greeted them cheerfully. They were well looked-after for having been in the care of strangers for four days. Each man was glad and relieved to see his mount. They were also happy to find that their chainmail, swords, and other supplies had come along with the horses. They checked the horses for any sign of mistreatment, but found none. It seemed that Renault cared more for the animals in his stables than for the people in his dungeons.

"Wait," Arthur called. The stranger was beginning to sneak away. Even though they looked directly at him, the edges of his form wavered. "Who are you?"

"Who I am is of little consequence," the stranger replied. "I was given special permission to guide you away, but now I must go. Gods and mortals were not meant to intermingle." Behind him, the sun was completely above the horizon. He seemed to melt away into the trees. They never saw his face.

No one spoke, everyone trying to wrap their minds around what had transpired in the past hour. Merlin looked to his horse, the placid mare Lluagor. There was a bag that did not belong to him hanging off the saddle. Then he recognised it: it was Alder's.

It was damaged beyond repair. The internal frame was splintered and the cloth torn. The bottle of glue had broken and covered most of the feathers inside with a sticky fetid odour. Only a handful of quills had survived unscathed.

"What's that?" Gwaine asked. Too grief-stricken for words, Merlin could only hold the ruined bag for all of them to see.

Without a word, Arthur began to gather wood from the ground. He set up some branches in the middle of the clearing, in a conveniently-placed fire pit. The others knew what he was doing. Percival took the wood axe from the saddlebags and went off to collect more wood. He returned shortly with enough for a good-sized fire that would burn easily. Merlin found his flint in the luggage and set the timber ablaze. When it could burn without his coaxing, he stood.

They encircled the fire. Merlin pulled the undamaged feathers out of Alder's bag and carefully put the broken shell of the pack in the centre of the flames. He passed around the feathers. There were enough for everyone to have one.

Gwaine went first. He stepped closer to the fire. "You had an odd sense of humour," he said simply as he laid his goldfinch's bright orange feather in the flames. "And you wanted us to leave you behind. You didn't have to want that."

Leon was next. As his red feather caught fire, he said, "I'm sorry you ever had to cross paths with that monstrosity. I'm sorry we couldn't save you."

Elyan cleared his throat before speaking. "You counted us higher than your own family. I–I'm not entirely sure we deserve that, but thank you." The feather he set down was a deep russet colour.

Percival looked at the flames, saying nothing. Then, as he placed a feather so black it was almost purple, he whispered, "You were like my little brother."

"You were not meant to die so soon," Arthur said quietly as his crimson feather with sprinkles of gold burned. "You had done nothing wrong."

Merlin could not think of what to say. He looked at his feather. It belonged to a hawk, a merlin in fact. He laid it in the fire. "You're not worthless. You do matter." The flame that came from his feather blazed golden and blue.

No one spoke as the flames consumed the wood and died down. When the fire was well and truly gone, they fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as soon as they laid down.

0~0~0~0~0~0

When Merlin awoke, the daylight was as orange as it had been when he and the others dropped off to sleep. For a moment he thought he had slept out the night, but then saw where the sun was. It hovered over the distant White Mountains, which lay to the west of Essetir and Camelot. It was a sunset he saw.

He knew this clearing. It was where they had been last night, and where they had met Alder. They were inside Camelot's borders, less than a day's ride from the castle. He settled back and tried to sleep, but could not banish all thought from his mind. His heart grieved for Alder and the life he had been denied. He was just a boy, still learning his place in the world. He could have gone on and had a happier life. He need not have died thinking he was worthless and going mad.

Renault's death also warranted some thought. _He's gone_, Merlin reminded himself. _He can't hurt me anymore_. Strangely, the thought of the monster who had brutalised him and his friends did not terrify him as it had less than a day before. Just as the shackles had fallen from his ankles, Renault's hold on Merlin's life was also gone. He did not have to be afraid. There were people all around him who cared about him, even if they –that is, Arthur– did not readily show it. Even if they remained unaware of just how much he did, he could still count on their friendship. If only he could have saved Alder. If only he could have shown him that friendship as well.

But the stranger, who was he? If he was a god, why had he not come sooner? Why did Alder have to die before he turned up?

"Merlin." A voice came to him on a breeze. He sat up to look for the speaker and saw no one but Arthur and the knights, and they slept like logs. "Merlin," it called again. He glanced around. The others did not stir. He doubted even shouting would wake them. He stood up, muscles protesting against the sudden movement, and went toward the voice. He remained in the glade, soon coming to a fallen log near the edge.

"Hello?" He called back. "Who's there?"

He was looking directly at the tree before him when a shape seemed to step out of the bark. He stepped back in surprise before he recognised the person. It was the stranger who had rescued them. Now, he had a quiver of arrows slung over his back and carried an unstrung bow. Merlin still could not see his face, but he could see the archer's armguards he wore.

"Hello again," the stranger said.

As before, Merlin's mind went straight to the least-helpful thing in the series of things he had to say. "I thought you said that the gods wouldn't allow you to stay."

"Then we just won't tell them that I stayed for a little while longer," the stranger replied casually. He sat on the log and gestured for Merlin to join him. "The gods aren't all-knowing."

Merlin glanced at him confusedly. "What?"

"The best term your language can render for those beings is 'gods,' but they're really more along the lines of 'immortals' or perhaps 'extremely-long-lived-souls-with-great-power.' But that's a bit longwinded, so 'gods' will have to suffice."

Merlin decided it would be better to just take his word for it than to argue. "Then you're not really a god, or a long-lived soul?"

"I am long-lived," the stranger clarified. "Just not as long-lived or as powerful as some of the others. And then, I'm not even sure how long-lived or powerful. You've met some like me before."

"When?" Merlin thought he would have remembered seeing someone like the stranger sitting next to him.

"Taliesin, for one. Remember the old man who showed you the Crystal Cave?" Merlin did remember, and shuddered at the memory. "We are here and there, but we don't associate with mortals. It's bad for their egos." He heard a smile in the stranger's voice.

Merlin got a better look at him. His cloak was a mottled green-grey colour, which made it hard to see where the cloak ended and the foliage around it began. That was probably its purpose, but it was nonetheless bewildering. The stranger sat easily, but he gave off the aura of leadership.

"If you've been watching us all this time, why did you not come sooner?" Merlin asked quietly. He recalled, with a spike of grief, that Alder had asked the same question.

The stranger was silent for a moment. "I was stuck," he admitted.

"_'_Stuck?_'_" Merlin wanted to make sure he heard that right.

"Yes," the stranger affirmed. "I was trapped. I did not want to reveal myself until I had no choice. But then, by the time I should have come forth, I could not."

"Why not?"

"You know who I am, Merlin."

"Do I?" Merlin asked. He was fairly sure he had not met this stranger before.

As an answer, the stranger pushed back his cowl and revealed his face.

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**Check back on 9 October for Chapter Thirteen.**


	13. Complete

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.)

**0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0**

**Chapter Thirteen: Complete**

He was a young man, perhaps a little older than Merlin. Then again, he could not be sure. The man seemed to be simultaneously young and ancient. His nose was slightly bent, as if it had been broken long ago and healed not quite perfectly. His light brown hair was tousled in a devil-may-care fashion. But his eyes were the most mysterious. Eyes that had seen many things, undergone much pain and suffering, eyes that belonged to an old man. And yet, there was that spark of mischief in them that is only found in the eyes of a youth.

And somehow Merlin recognised the eyes. Though the startlingly green irises were speckled with ash, they were exactly like…

Merlin stared. "No," he said faintly. "It can't be."

The young man smiled. "It is," he said simply.

Merlin shook his head, dumbfounded. "You…died. Burned. There's…there's nothing left."

The young man showed his hands, palms up. Merlin had not seen him remove the arm guards, but the armour was no longer there. Twin cuts gouged his hands. "Shall I show you the mace scars in my side as well," he asked calmly, "or will you doubt no more?"

Merlin shook his head again. "I want to believe, but _how…_"

The young man sat back and explained, "Imagine someone's soul as being like wine in a flagon. Suppose that the wine is poured out of the flagon into a goblet, and then a different wine is also poured into the same goblet. You would not say 'The wine has vanished entirely.' The wine is still present, just in a different place and a different form.

"In that way, though the body of Alder was destroyed, his soul still exists within this form. But his soul –my soul– is no longer alone."

"What?" Merlin was still trying to wrap his mind around the notion that the boy who had been brutally murdered and incinerated right in front of him was somehow not dead.

"Look at your friends." The manservant turned his head and the young man put a hand on his shoulder. The lights that Merlin had seen in his dreams were inside Arthur and the knights.

"Are those their souls?" he asked.

"They are. You were able to see them in your dreams, I believe."

Arthur's light was crimson with specks of gold interspersed throughout its light. Another scarlet light shone in Leon's chest, but without the gold. Gwaine's soul was that outrageous and yet steadfast orange colour. Elyan's russet-brown lantern burned with a warm light, and Percival's glowed with a deep purple radiance.

Merlin looked down at his own chest. In his core, a sapphire lamp with gold highlights burned fiercely. "Is that…" He trailed off, unsure of how to ask.

"Your magic? Yes. Magic is in your very essence, in your very soul."

"And your soul?" Like Merlin's, the light that was this young man's soul had more than one colour in it. The black that Merlin had seen before was gone, leaving only the green and grey. But there was no longer a space between them. The emerald and ash were completely amalgamated.

The lights faded as the young man withdrew his hand from Merlin's shoulder. "Within Alder's body, there were two souls: his and one of those extremely-long-lived-souls-with-great-power."

"Which one?" Merlin felt a headache brewing.

"One name for him was Manawyddan, the son of Llyr and the husband of Rhiannon."

"You say 'was'," Merlin pointed out. "And you refer to Alder as if you aren't him."

The young man smiled sadly. "Because I am not Manawyddan or Alder. I am both." His smile grew sympathetic as Merlin put his face in his hands, a headache now raging in his skull. "I know, it's a lot to digest."

"A lot to digest?" He could not sit still any longer. He stood and began to pace. "We were trapped –_tortured_– for days." The young man sat quietly, letting him rant. "We thought we were getting out, only to be carted back to the fortress and watch you be slaughtered! You, you could've told me. You could've told us."

"Could Alder have told you what he did not know himself?"

Merlin whirled around to glower at him. "Who the hell _are_ you even?!"

"I told you," he said quietly. "I am neither Alder nor Manawyddan, but a bit of both."

"Then what do I call you?"

The young man looked puzzled for a moment. "Truthfully, I don't know." He thought for a bit, then said, "How about Robin?"

"Robin?"

Robin shrugged. "Why not? Please, let me tell you the whole story. Judge as you will after then, but at least hear me out."

Merlin sat back down and nodded stiffly. "Alright. Tell."

The young man who was once Alder sighed. "As I said, I am no longer Alder or Manawyddan, but a mixture of the two of them. When I was two separate beings, Manawyddan's spirit resided in the mound Alder spoke of. How he came to be there is a very long story, one I need not go into. When Alder opened the door in the mound, he drew Manawyddan's spirit out and into himself. Quite by accident," he assured Merlin when the latter started to interrupt. "Manawyddan did not mean for it to happen, but once it occurred there was no way to go back.

"It is not an easy task for a mortal and an immortal to share one body. By his nature, Manawyddan could not remain cooped up indefinitely. When Alder blacked out, Manawyddan would take control, hence the incidents."

"Couldn't you have just let Alder 'keep control'?"

Robin looked mildly affronted. "You try being trapped in a mortal vessel for a few years without burning it up. If he –Manawyddan– tried to keep all of his power contained, he would have destroyed Alder's body." He regained his composure and continued. "The best approach available to the both of them was for Manawyddan to let off some power every now and then. Unfortunately, that would mean Alder would not remember what his body was doing for that time. Most of the time, he did so when Alder was alone, but he could not always be sure that no one was watching. A boy in his village once saw him when he was not himself. He began taunting Alder for not knowing who his father was." He fidgeted. "With Manawyddan's temper, I am surprised the boy got away with only a black eye and a broken arm. After that, the villagers were convinced that Alder had to die. You know what happened next."

"Your–his–Alder's mother told him about his father, told him to leave Stonesbury."

"Yes. His father did not believe his story until he saw the ring. Even then, he was reluctant to take Alder in. As a bowyer, he taught him fletching and archery, but he never truly loved him." Robin stared off, saddened by the memories. "He was duty-bound to provide for Alder and to teach him his family's craft, but he did not find it in himself to extend his obligations to love."

Merlin hesitated. The person sitting beside him was no longer a stranger, but someone who knew what it was like to be an outcast. He put a hand on Robin's shoulder, comforting him as he had comforted Alder.

He squeezed the hand in thanks. "The blackouts continued, estranging Alder from his father even more. That time ended when Alder overheard him speaking with another of the bowyers. He did not want to believe that the boy everyone thought was mad was his son."

"So he ran away," Merlin guessed. "He was running away when…"

"When Renault caught all of you."

"But once we were there, why couldn't you free us? Alder was trapped with us. Couldn't you have just taken control? Didn't you care?"

"I did care, But for it to have done any good, Manawyddan would had burned Alder's body up in the effort. The only thing to do was wait. But when Renault cut Alder's left hand, he learned the secret that was kept from even Alder himself: that Manawyddan was with him. To have a god under his control, that would have completed his quest for strength and the whole world as we know it would have been over."

"So when he said he was waiting to call someone forth, he meant you."

"Manawyddan, yes." He looked as if he was tiring of Merlin referring to him as the god he no longer was. "The knife cut implanted a sickness in Alder, weakening both him and Manawyddan to the point where the boundary between their thoughts began to fail. Renault's plan was to wait until Alder was nearly dead, then kill him to force the immortal out and enslave his power. But he did not. He defiled the ancient rituals of what you call the Old Religion. He perverted them until they worked toward his will. But this time, he failed. By killing Alder and destroying his body –the vessel– Manawyddan's spirit fled beyond his reach forever."

"What happened next?" When Robin looked at him, Merlin clarified, "I mean, I was there when Alder was–was killed, but I still don't know what happened."

"Manawyddan pulled Alder's soul out of the Otherworld and completely joined with him. That joining of spirits became _me_. I remember both of their lives, I have both of their skills, but I am my own being. For the first time in Alder's life –and the first time since Bran died for Manawyddan– we are complete. We are no longer alone."

"So, what you were talking about, burying your brother's head…"

"That was Manawyddan's brother, Bran. He was killed in battle, but commanded his companions to bury his head in Caer-Lundein, which lies to the south and east of here on the banks of the river Thames."

"And the thing about the mouse? You were really going to hang a _mouse_?"

"Yeah." Robin fidgeted under the attention. "I told you that Manawyddan had a temper. It's a long story," he said when Merlin started to speak again. "and he didn't hang the mouse after all." He looked up, as if someone had called his name. "I do need to leave soon, Merlin." He stood and picked up his bow. The armguards were back, though Merlin had not seen him put them on. Night was nearly upon them.

"Why?" That was all Merlin could think to ask. "Why did you come back?"

"Manawyddan promised to snap Renault's neck. I had to make good on that vow. And I owed you an explanation at least," Robin said. "More than that, I wanted to see you before the coming time. In the years that have passed since Arthur was crowned king, many good things have come to the land. But you must beware. Sooner than any of you would like, the die will be cast and Albion's greatest trial will begin.

"But do not despair." He laid a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "That time is still in the future. Do not lose hope, even when all lights go out. For the darkest hour is just before the dawn. And I will be there in that darkest hour, standing beside you." He turned to face the trees, pulling the hood back up and over his head. "I must leave now. Even the most obtuse of gods will not be able to ignore my presence here if I stay any longer."

"So, this is good-bye?" Merlin did not want him to go. Robin was not Alder, but he still felt a kinship with him.

"No. It is only fare thee well, until next time." With that, he began to move off, his form wavering on the edges.

"Wait," Merlin called. "You said something; that gods can't associate with mortals. How will there be a next time?"

"I would certainly call this little conversation an association," Robin replied.

Merlin's head buzzed. "If that's true, then what am I?"

"I can't tell yeh all the secrets." For that moment, Alder was back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "If I did, where would yeh find the wonder in the world?" He disappeared into the woods without a trace.

0~0~0~0~0~0

Merlin eventually fell back asleep and awoke with the others as the sun rose the next day. Everyone was well-rested, healed in body and mind. They donned their armour and rode away to the west. By mid-afternoon they came to a wonderful, familiar sight.

Up ahead, the white walls and towers of the citadel of Camelot gleamed in the sun. The line of horses cantered along the road and through the gates. As glad as Merlin was to see his home, he stopped his horse. Turning back, he looked out to the east.

Arthur noticed that he lingered. The king guided his horse back to where the manservant was. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"He can't hurt anyone else," Arthur finally said.

"And he's at peace," Merlin answered. Both knew that they were speaking of two different people.

Together, they turned their mounts and entered the gates of Camelot. After everything they had endured, Merlin was also at peace. Renault was dead. His thoughts and dreams and fears belonged to him and him alone once more. He was free.

The shell of a man he had seen in the mirror and in his dreams still haunted his footsteps, but the boy like Alder was also there. Like Robin, who was both Alder and Manawyddan, if he could reconcile the two people he was, he too could be whole. He would be ready to face the dark hours ahead, and then the dawn.

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**I know, it's a lot to digest. Feel free to ask any questions in reviews! I will do my best to answer them.**

**Check back on 12 October for the epilogue.**


	14. Epilogue

**Title:** More Than It Seems

**Author:** Minch

**Summary:** Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?

**Rating:** T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.

**Disclaimer:** I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of _Merlin_. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.

**Author's note:** I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.)

**Spells: **_Unclyse_ = "Open"

_Standan in fot_ = "Stand on your feet"

_Fordyttan_ = "Shut"

_Sittan_ = "Sit"

_Átemian_ = "Be quiet"

_Cuman_ = "Come"

_Forbærne firgenholt_ = "Mountain wood, burn"

_Astyrian na_ = "Do not move"

_Gód of __scinncræft__ ac ongytenes, __þé__ eart_ _betræppan__ in_ _þisne__ mennisc læfel._ = "God of magic and knowledge, you are trapped in this mortal vessel."

_Ic bebéode_ _þé, sundrian fram þín læfel!_ = "I command you, separate from your vessel!"

_Beón clæne sundrian!_ = "Be completely separate!"

_Se mennisc ís lífléas. Árísan nú! Beón under mín ánweald!_ = "The mortal is dead. Arise now! Be under my power!"

_Sécan_ _mec, sécan þín hláford, beón under mín ánweald!_ = "Come to me, come to your master, be under my power!"

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**Epilogue**

The woman stole through the castle, carrying a small box under her arm. It was all she had time to save when Renault's fortress fell, all that remained of that madman's quest for power.

Rowena was not a fool. Two years ago, when she met Renault for the first time, she had seen through his lies about his destiny to bring magic back to the land. But she had also seen that this was her chance to right the balance.

Everything in the Old Religion hinged upon balance. It was not right for Arthur Pendragon and Emrys to have no force opposing their efforts.

No one in the castle saw her make her way down to the dungeon. She stopped above a small stone door set in the ground. There, she set the box down and opened it.

The power inside was nowhere near that which Renault had collected, but it was enough for her purposes. Renault wanted to raze this castle to the ground; she only needed everyone inside to fall asleep for a day. Almost everyone.

Distant clatters of armoured guards collapsing to the ground made their way to her ears. When all was silent, she spoke a spell, her eyes glowed, and the door opened. The stone of the door grated across the stone of the floor.

Below her, the cell was an oubliette, little more than a well. Small and cramped, it was made to feel even smaller by the presence of its occupants. One of them shrieked in a voice that had known terrible pain and suffering. The second remained silent, only blinking up at Rowena.

Soon the three of them rode in a cart out of the castle. The people left inside would sleep until the next dawn. By the time Sarrum discovered that his prisoners were gone, they would be out of Amata.

It was earliest morning when the cart came to a halt. A small abandoned tower stood on the slopes of a rocky valley. Rowena gently guided the captives inside. Both were feeble from having been kept in the oubliette for two years. But what they lacked in physical strength, both of them still had strength in spirit. They would eventually recover.

The larger of the two prisoners walked on four unsteady feet. Her shrivelled wings and misshapen body quivered with every movement. Her friend was in no better shape. Her papery-white skin shone against her long greasy black hair. The dress she wore was nothing more than filthy rags.

Rowena guided them to a large pile of blankets on the floor. As they sank onto the most comfortable bed either had known in an eternity, the human captive looked up at her.

"Who–" Her voice was nothing more than a rasp.

"You are safe, Morgana Pendragon," Rowena answered. A flash of anger sparked in Morgana's pale green eyes, anger at being reminded of her blood family.

Rowena smiled to herself. Morgana would need that anger to give her strength for the coming time. The balance was beginning to right itself…

_**More than it seems, these dreams inside blur reality's line**_

_**If I could believe the dreams aside, I am capable of more than it seems**_

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At long last, it's over.

First of all, I'd like to acknowledge some of the stories that influenced this one. After Ealdor, by **finn1013**, inspired Merlin's characterization. Worthless, by **Jomel10**, helped with the investigation scenes and how they affected the characters. The stories of Manawyddan, (including the burial of Bran's head and threatening to hang a mouse), can be found in The Mabinogion.

Next up, here is an all-around thank you to the people who favourited the story: **4Eirlys**, **EnglandBabe1997**, **LeGSmile**, **MyOnLyCoCoA**, **Mika271170**, **Gabriella Jane London**, **Lyra Grey**, **Midnight Venom**, **Netiri Vi Britannia**, **roxanne92**, **xxMagical-Lifexx**, **PJO is the best**, **Sammyboy1**, **Kyori Uchiha of the Sand**, **freshly caught Cornish pixies**, **Morgageb**, **Awesomeperson06**, **Saqin**, **j3swimmer**, **pepe1800**, **FabFiction15**, **riddles and secrets**, **TheDragonSquirrel**, **Yurrie**, **Moon Fox**, **rajahpony**, **MykeRed**, and **WillmShakspere**.

And finally, thank you to the people who reviewed, some several times:** Blue Turtle of AWESOMENESS**, **zendog**, **Mika271170**, **Simply me**, **Midnight Venom**, **TheMightyE**, **Bookworm8793**, **wolfchild**, **bubzchoc**, **Darkheart Du Lac**, **rmatri540**, **ruby890**, **Ms. Fairweather**, **kayleighjo312**, **Ms. Rosie**, **Virebax**, **susant123**, **sarajm**, **Felicity P**, **Lesley**, **Aerist**, **wolfnympyh1**, and **Moon Fox**.

To the reviewers: YOU are the reason I kept posting. Your reassurance and encouragement validate the days and weeks I spent writing, re-writing, scrapping, and worrying over this story. I always knew that writing was a worthwhile occupation, but you make it undeniably true.

This will likely be the last story you see from me for quite some time. As much as I love writing, my life has grown extremely busy! I have a few tales cooking on the back burner, but no time to write. That is not to say that I'm done writing fanfiction, only that I have to go on hiatus for a bit. But fear not: I will return one day.

**Until next time, fare thee well. May your imagination never cease to exist, and may your writing continue to give purpose to your life.**


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